Parallel Evolution
by the morrighan
Summary: One different outcome produces horrifying results.
1. Chapter 1

Parallel Evolution

Beige.

John Sheppard's gaze was honed in on the color. He flew the Jumper smoothly over the mainland. Briefly checking the HUD he lowered the vehicle. Cloaked the ship. Invisible now in stealth mode he flew across the rolling plains. Over the tops of the trees, nearly skimming the leafy boughs. Brushing leaves that whirled in his wake. Lower still as he reached a clearing. Slowed. Smiled. Gaze focused on his beige target now. He zoomed in on the rounded features.

Moira O'Meara was crouching in the grass, staring intently at something too small for him to see. Not that he was looking anywhere else but at her khaki pants. As she leaned, hunched over her knees. Green t-shirt riding up a little to give him a glimpse of skin. Her long brown ponytail stirred by a gentle breeze. A backpack blocked his view momentarily as she straightened.

Grinning he tapped his earpiece. "Moira," he said. Drawing out her name in a seductive breath.

Moira was intent on the rabbit. Filming while simultaneously making notes on her laptop. John's husky voice whispered in her ear. She started, dropped the equipment. Nearly fell onto her face. She looked round as the rabbit hopped into the undergrowth. Gone. She heard his laughter tickling her ear. She scowled. "John! Damn it!" She tapped the earpiece. "Where are you, colonel?"

"Enjoying the sight of your pert little ass in those snug, snug khakis, baby," he teased. "On your six, Moira. Your pert little six."

She whirled. Saw no one. Shading her eyes she scanned the distant trees. "Where are you?" she repeated. "I don't see you, sweetie," she rejoined with a smile. "John?"

"Up," he replied.

"Up?" she repeated, confused.

"Look up, baby. I'm right on your six." He uncloaked the ship. Saw her mouth open in surprise. She stumbled backwards. He laughed. Waved at her through the viewport.

Moira laughed. Waved. "Clever, sweetie." She gathered her dropped equipment. Stuffed the pieces into her backpack as he smoothly landed the vehicle. She walked round to the hatch and waited. Shaking her head.

John opened the hatch, stepped out to her. His boots clomped noisily on the ramp. "Hi."

Moira smiled. Stared at his handsome face. Black t-shirt molded to his form. The gray pants as well. "Hi yourself, flyboy." She hugged him, kissed him. Unable to resist the mirth sparkling in his brilliant green eyes. The smile on his full, perfect lips. "Hmm, about time you got back."

"I know," he agreed, kissing her but she pulled free of his arms. Stepped off the ramp. "Hey!"

"I've got work to do, John. I'm tracking another anomaly. Another lagomorph exhibiting unusual dental evolutionary–"

"Vampire rabbit, so I heard," John interrupted. "Lorne told me."

"Oh. Yes. Well, one is an anomaly. Two could be a genetic fluke or a subspecies. Or an example of parallel evolution. An independent development of similar shapes or behavior in closely related organisms in response to similar environmental pressures. If there is a breeding population exhibiting these same characteristics it could mean–"

"Whoa, doctor," John held up a hand, forestalling a lecture, "you can do that later."

"No, John. This is my job. Believe it or not this is what I've been trained to do. So go fly your ship back to Atlantis and I'll see you there." She made to leave when he caught her arm, pulled her onto the ramp. Into the Jumper.

"You'll see me now, Moira," he corrected.

She laughed, relented. "Fine. You can fly me to the other side of this ridge. There's a population of ow!" She stumbled over a cooler. Stared. Stared at the wicker basket next to it. Dropped her backpack to the floor as he closed the hatch. "John?" She peeked into the cooler. Saw beer. Pink lemonade.

"Sit. Strap in," he commented. Moved past her to seat himself in the pilot's chair. He powered the ship with a touch. Hands flowing over the controls as the vehicle started to rise. "Moira?"

She slid into the co-pilot's seat, glancing back at the provisions. "What's going on, John?"

"What does it look like, Moira?" he teased.

She eyed him. Pointed out the viewport. "Just over there, John. By those trees. John, you missed it! Wait, wait! Are we going back to Atlantis?" she asked as he flew steadily over the mainland. Past the ridge. Past the trees. Towards the ocean.

"No. We're not going back to Atlantis."

"John, is something wrong?"

"No."

"No?" She leaned to lift the wicker basket's cover. Saw an assortment of food. She closed it. Sat back in the chair. "Lunch? A picnic? You?"

He laughed. "Wow...nothing gets by that scientific mind, does it, Moira?"

She hit his arm. "Hilarious, John! Now I am worried. What is wrong, sweetie? This isn't you. You're the sex guy, not the hearts and flowers guy. John...are you breaking up with me?"

He sighed as the vehicle headed out over the water. Atlantis was in the distance. A glimmer of light and metal dancing on the roiling blue waters. "No, Moira. You see why I don't indulge in these romantic gestures? You always assume the worst. You wanted a date, right? So, here we are. On a date."

"Oh." She glanced at the basket, the cooler. At him as he easily flew the ship. Hands skimming the controls. Expression caught between exasperation and amusement. "Sorry, John. It's just not like you...to do this...kind of thing. Where are we going?"

"Shielding. Here we go." The vehicle hummed as the shield enveloped it in a hazy shimmer. Hit the water. Slowly submerged. Deep. Deeper. Blue waters teemed with sunlight streaking through the waves. Fish swam in erratic alarm at the sudden intrusion. John shone the lights over the fish, the plankton, the increasingly darker waters.

"John...where are we going?" Moira asked, uneasy as they sank lower. Lower.

"I'm abducting you, Doctor O'Meara. No more interruptions. And there's no need to be discreet down here."

"Oh. So you're not breaking up with me?"

"No. Just enjoy the ride, sweetheart. Now. And later." He glanced at her, winked.

She smiled, touched his arm. "Sorry, Colonel Sheppard."

He shook his head. "Hold on. I need to re-set the inertial dampeners, then we'll land."

"Land? In the water? On the bottom?"

"Yeah, we can't land on the top, now can we?" he quipped. The ship bumped, bumped. Then settled on the ocean floor. Sand drifted in pale brown waves. John slipped out of the seat and moved to the back of the ship. Moira stood, staring out of the viewport. Ribbons of water waved around them. Fish darted. An eel slithered. "Moira, here."

She turned. He had opened a console, was pushing buttons. Set his watch. Then checked the console again. Opened the hatch. "John!" she exclaimed, expecting a rush of cold water to drown them. The pressure to squeeze them. He laughed. A shimmering field extended.

"Shield, Moira. We are going to be the first to have a picnic on the ocean floor. Go on."

Moira hesitated, then stepped past him. Into the ocean. Cautiously stepped on what looked like the sandy bottom but was in actuality the shield beneath her feet. A clear screen encapsulated a few feet, like a tunnel. The ocean was all around them. The waters undulated gently. She walked, gingerly touched the shield. It felt cold. "John! It's...it's amazing! I can almost feel the sand under my shoes! Look! The fish! Look, John! A _basilosaurus cetoides! _A primitive whale! Look! That resembles a plesiosaur! Look!"

John smiled at her enthusiastic, joyous expression. He sat comfortably. Opened the hamper and the cooler. "Let's eat. I'm starving!"

She moved to him, sat close. Kissed him. "John! This is beautiful! Fantastic!" She eyed him. "Are you sure you're not breaking up with me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Moira! Eat." He handed her a pink lemonade. Opened a beer and took a long sip. "Ah!"

She sorted through the food in the basket. Filled plates with hot dogs. Potato salad. "Perfect, John! Just perfect."

"Nearly so," he agreed with a smile.

They ate. Moira's eyes were darting all over the ocean around them. Pointing out different fish and other creatures to John. He watched her, watched the ocean's inhabitants swim by in schools or alone. Neon fish flickered like tiny rainbows. A turtle bumped into the shield, causing them to laugh at its shocked expression.

Moira sipped her lemonade, set it aside. Stood to move down the tunnel. "How far does this go?"

John checked his watch, finished his beer. Carelessly dumped the remains of their meal into the basket. "Only a yard or so. We don't need that much room. The energy requirements should hold for at least an hour."

She turned to him. Saw his suggestive, wandering gaze. "John? John..." She put her hands on her hips. "Here?"

He laughed at her disbelief. "Yes, Moira. Here. Didn't you just say I am the sex guy?" He moved to her, slid his arms around her. Drawing her close. "Just think of it, sweetheart. We will be the first two people to ever have sex on the ocean floor!"

"I should have known, John Sheppard, this wasn't romantic at all! It was something kinky!"

He laughed. Pulled her against him. Hands sliding up her back, under her shirt. Fingered the bra. Kissed her. Fingers tugging the fabric. He pulled back a little. "What the..."

She laughed, kissed him. "Front closure, silly. Are you sure you're the sex guy?"

He smiled. "Oh. Oh yes, baby, I am." He guided her down onto the ground. Onto her back, kissing her. He pushed up her shirt and undid the bra to free her breasts.

"John...oh John....that feels weird."

"Huh?" His hands cupped, caressed. Teased. Callused fingertips rough. Sensual. "This?" His mouth followed. Kissing, teasing. Tongue circling until her nipples hardened. Mouth gently pulling, sucking.

She gasped, arched, shifted as her body reacted. Her fingers tangling in his hair. "No...no...the ground. Feels weird. Not you...not that...not uncomfortable. Just weird...like a waterbed." The words came stiffly as she tried to talk, to think under his ministrations. A flash of light caught her attention above them. Colored lights streaming in the water. "Did you–"

His mouth slid down to the scar on her side. "Really? That's interesting. And kinky."

She laughed, murmured as his mouth moved down to her pants. His fingers deftly unbuttoned. Unzipped. Pulled. Pulled the pants, the panties down. "John, wait." But the lights were gone. Distracted she dismissed them.

They rolled. She was on top of him, squirming. Pulling her pants and panties awkwardly off one leg. "See? Weird."

He ran his hand on the ground. "Yeah...that is weird. Different." He moaned as she squirmed against him, rubbing his arousal. "Baby, let's make some waves." He laughed.

She frowned. "God I hate that...sweetie." She kissed him. Moved his shirt up to run her mouth along his waist. Unbuttoned his pants. Unzipped. Undid his belt. Yanked open his pants. He groaned in anticipation as she fingered his boxer shorts. Smirked at the colorful blue and yellow pattern. Opened them a little.

"Moira...oh...keep going, please..." Becoming hard under her seductions he shifted. Fingers tangling in her hair now, pulling it free of the ponytail. He watched her bend down to kiss his waist. Lower. Lower. Her bare rear lifting as she moved lower. Ran hot kisses up the glimpse of bare skin as his erection jerked, jutted. He groaned again. "Yes, baby! Moira, do it...do me like that, baby, all the fucking way..." The feel of her tongue on his naked skin was almost unbearable. Arousing.

She slid up his body as he struggled to be free of his clothing. She kissed his mouth, his throat. Circled his ear to make him groan. "Oh John," she cooed breathlessly, "I almost went down on you but you had to call me that name. Sorry, sweetie." She laughed as she rolled off him and he scowled.

"Hilarious, Moira!" He moved onto her. Kissed her, kiss after kiss, his mouth taking full possession of hers. All teasing aside as he opened her lips to his. As his tongue darted. As his hands shoved her thighs apart. Fingers sliding up to probe, to stroke until she whimpered. Flooded at his touch. "That's it, baby...as wet as the ocean, but so hot..." he said, voice thrumming along her throat as he kissed her skin.

"John, John, really, you don't have to..." She moaned loudly as he entered her. Found her tight but ready. Began to move in a delicious motion. Taking another possession now.

"I hope we don't dislodge the shield, Moira," he teased, kissing her. Thrusting quicker. He slid his hands down her hips. "Wider, baby," he instructed.

She obliged, but colored. Eyed the ocean around them as she caught John's arms. He was moving faster, rocking her in a weird undulation against the shield. "John...the fish. The fish are watching."

"So? Let them see how mammals do it. Maybe they'll evolve," he suggested. He laughed.

"Hilarious, John. Fish can't evolve into..." The rest was lost in a rising gasp of moans and whimpers. His continued momentum propelling them. Moira started to come as he moved faster, faster. As her vocalizations came faster, faster. Her body writhed, arched as the spiraling pleasure bloomed, bloomed and then burst into an orgasm. Another. "Oh John! Oh John, John, John!" she cried in a sexual litany.

"Moira, my Moira!" he moaned, moving faster still, deeper until he reached his own destination. "Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned as the tension strained, shuddered, and then was spent in one final, deep thrust. He rested on her. Kissed her mouth, her throat. "Ah...baby...now that was a fucking tidal wave."

She smiled, stroked his hair, his back. Legs closing slightly. "Yes, John. I'm sure a wave just hit Atlantis."

He laughed. "Damn right it did." He kissed her again, checked his watch. "We better get dressed." He rolled off her, fixed his clothing. Moira sat and fixed hers. Restoring her underwear and pants. Stared as a light flashed above them. Like the ones she had seen earlier. Bursts of color.

"John, did you see that?"

"See what?" He was watching her fix her clothes. Run her hands over herself to make sure her underwear was in place. He licked his lips.

"The light. Above us and to the left."

He looked, but his watch beeped. "Time to go, Moira. Now!" He grabbed the basket, the cooler. Tossed them into the Jumper. "Moira!"

She was staring at the water, at yet another flash of colored light that seemed closer to the ship, to the shield. Unusual colors underwater. She noticed the shield was shrinking. Withdrawing back towards the ship. "Oh oh. John..."

He grabbed her hand, pulled her into a run. They rushed into the Jumper as the water crashed after them. Pressure pushing them like a physical force. John slammed the hatch shut as the ship shuddered. Then was still.

"John? Are we–"

"No. Just the extension." He met her alarmed gaze. "That was close, Moira. Next time we'll skip the lunch and just have sex."

"Hilarious, John," she scolded. But slid her arms up his chest, around his neck. Kissed him. "Hmm...John...oh John..."

He returned her kisses, moving her against the wall. ""Just a sec, sweetheart." He opened the panel. Checked to be sure all systems were secure. Moira kissed along his throat, caressed his chest. Slid her hands under the t-shirt to feel bare skin, chest hair. The dog tags. Cool metal. "Am I in the way, sweetie? Should I go lower?" she teased. Slipping down.

He smiled. "Be my guest, baby. All the way down, if you know what I mean. And stop calling me sweetie." He closed the panel. "We're fine. All systems a go."

She laughed. Hand caressing along the length of him. "Yes, sir. I can see that." She stood as he laughed. Kissed him again. "That was wonderful, John!"

"Well, yeah. I am the sex guy," he boasted.

"No! Well, yes, that too, but I meant the picnic. Here. Wonderful!" she gushed. Teased, "Even, dare I say it, romantic?"

"Don't say it," he chastised. "You've had your date, now, Moira, so hush. I guess we should go back to Atlantis. Hmm...yours? Or mine? Yours," he decided. "You have the better bed."

"A secret date?" she asked, frowning as he moved to the front of the ship.

"A discreet date. Don't start that again, Moira." He powered up the Jumper. "Here we go."

She sighed. Moved to sit next to him as he raised the ship. Up through the waters. Up towards the surface. "I don't see what the problem is, sweetie. Seriously! It's not like I'm going to run up and down the hallways shouting how I love John Sheppard, or announce over the intercom that John Sheppard is in my bed."

"I'd rather you didn't do those things," he laconically noted.

"I'm serious, damn it!" she fumed. Hit his arm. "Why is it so difficult to talk to you? I can talk to Evan. I can talk to Carson. But you...you...you're like a tidal wave! Sometimes I get pulled into the current and the ride is extraordinary, marvelous! Literally takes my breath away! But other times I smash into it and there's nothing I can do but stop sinking before I drown. This whole discretion thing you insist upon is–"

"Moira! What the hell do you want me to do? Run up and down the hallways shouting that I love Moira O'Meara? I won't. Announce over the intercom that I am in Moira O'Meara's comfortable bed? I won't. I'm not that guy, baby, and don't pretend you didn't know otherwise. I'm not the hearts and flowers guy, okay? Unless...unless we are completely alone. Just you. Me. Then...then I can try...to be that guy...for you. The talking stuff and other...romantic crap...like this date, like other..." He sighed. Glanced at her. She was staring at him. "Wow...have I rendered Moira O'Meara speechless? That would be a first."

"John...you really feel that strongly? I, I mean...I..." she stammered, uncertain. Looked out the viewport as the ship broke the surface of the water. Stared. "Um, John...wasn't it daylight when we went down?"


	2. Chapter 2

Parallel Evolution2

Darkness met John's gaze as he stared out the Jumper's viewport. A sea of darkness beneath them. Above them in the nighttime sky. Except for the twinkling stars. No city lights gleamed in the distance. "Shit. We were only down there for a few hours. Two. What the..." He dropped the shields. Activated the HUD to get his bearings. "Maybe the earth did move, baby," he quipped. "Could vigorous sex on the ocean floor cause the tectonic plates to shift? 'Cause I don't see Atlantis either. The city should be over there." He pointed.

Moira stared as they flew into the darkness. "We moved? How?"

"I told you," he jested. Tapped his earpiece. "Atlantis, copy? Atlantis, do you read?"

"John...that's the mainland." She pointed at the rugged landscape jutting out of the ocean.

"Huh. We're completely turned around. A full 360. Weird," he commented.

"You and your kinky ideas," she accused. Tapped her own earpiece. "Atlantis, copy?"

"My instruments aren't reading anything out of the ordinary," he commented. Dismissed the readouts with a thought.

"Your instrument probably caused this, colonel," she groused. Met his gaze with a smirk.

He smiled. "Or your seismic cry as you came, baby." He swerved over the mainland. Turned and flew quickly. "Ah. Lights. There! The city. Maybe we go turned around underwater somehow and I flew the wrong way. But the inertial dampeners would have prevented that. And why is it night now instead of being day?"

"Told you it was your instrument," she scolded.

He laughed. "Yeah...probably."

"Atlantis, copy? Atlantis, do you–" Moira attempted the comm again.

"Atlantis, copy! Who is this?" asked a male voice.

"Moira...Doctor O'Meara. Atlantis, we're coming–"

"Who? Is this a joke? Who is flying that ship? What is your clearance code?"

Startled Moira looked at John. He shrugged, replied, "Atlantis, this is Colonel Sheppard. We're coming into Bay six, clearance code Beta three one Epsilon."

"Colonel!" A pause. "Yes, sir! Bay six will be prepped and primed, sir! Atlantis out!" The voice was tense, alert. John couldn't quite place it or recognize it right away.

Moira's brow furrowed. "John? What does that mean? Prepped and primed? And what was that about a clearance code?"

He met her gaze, shrugged. "Hell if I know. We haven't used those clearance codes since we first got here. It's an older code but still verifiable."

John flew the Jumper towards the city. Noted nothing unusual. The tall spires gleamed with lights. The water surrounding the large petal formations of each section. He swooped low and entered the city. Landed smoothly in bay 6. Powered down. "Maybe something's happened, but they would have contacted me immediately." He stood, moved to the hatch. Moira followed. He opened it, led her down the ramp. Stopped.

The Jumper bay was lined with marines. All in black BDUs and TAC vests. All bristling with weapons. All standing at attention, in perfect order. John stared, disconcerted. Walked slowly. Recognizing some of the men, but not all.

"John...I'm getting an Empire vibe," Moira noted, but he held up a hand, silencing her. Halting her as he stopped again. He turned to a man he did recognize. "Major Reynolds."

"Sir!" He saluted. They all saluted with pristine precision.

John returned the salute. The men seemed to be waiting for something. Gazes locked on nothing, staring straight ahead. John racked his brain. "Report?" he finally guessed.

Jason Reynolds visibly relaxed. "Colonel Sheppard, the city is secure. Beta site reports no activity in that sector. Team Delphi is due back at twelve hundred. Sector K is locked down per your orders and awaiting the interrogation system."

"What? Beta...Delphi...interrogation?" Moira muttered, dumbfounded.

"Moira, hush," John warned over his shoulder. "We're not in Kansas anymore."

"What?"

"Very good, major. Dismissed." The men didn't move. John racked his brain again, guessing. "Patrol the vicinity."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, exited in unison. Boots clomping along the floor in perfect time.

Moira took hold of John's arm. "What the–"

He turned to her. "I have no idea, but this is not good. Stay close to me." He led her out of the bay. To the control room. Passing marines who saluted. Into the control room. It was full of soldiers. They all straightened, saluted. All wore black. All bore weaponry. Grim, serious expressions that momentarily bloomed into surprise, shock when they saw Moira. John stared round. The consoles looked the same. The equipment running. The computers humming. Lights on grid flashing and blinking. He glanced at Moira, moved to a data screen where a man sat. "Give me a current reading."

"Yes, sir!" John studied the screens. Everything appeared normal. The layout of the city. Section by section. Exactly the same. But not. Each section of the city color-coded. The broken towers of the northeast section cordoned in black. John had always suspected that area was the city's weakness, both structurally and defensively.

Moira wandered over to the balcony. Noticing the silent, heavy stares she uneasily straightened her shirt. Brushed back her loose hair. She stared down at the Stargate. Marines stood guard. Two lines of men with heavy weaponry pointed at the dormant 'Gate. A shield shimmered. The Iris was a silver disc suspended in the ring. "John," she said, staring, "The 'Gate looks wrong. Well, not wrong but different." She walked closer to the glass wall. Stopped.

"Moira."

She ignored his quiet voice. "Did we install a secondary shield? That...that looks like Wraith tech...but how..." She paused. The silence was palpable. Complete. So heavy it felt like a blanket wrapping around her. Suffocating. "John?" She glanced at him. Back at the 'Gate. Looked again at him. Stared.

John was staring at her, disbelief and shock on his handsome, stubbled face. His messy hair caught the light, dark brown hues becoming blacker as he took a tentative step towards her. He was clad in black, a woven shirt over his t-shirt. Black pants and a black holster slung low, a single strap on his thigh. TAC vest open.

Moira's breath caught in her throat. She slowly, slowly looked across the control room. "John?" she called loudly. "Do you have a twin brother?" She stared at him as he was still studying the controls. Handsome face frowning in thought.

"What? I..." John looked. Stared. Abruptly raised his hands in the air as guns were trained onto him. Suddenly he was surrounded by hostile soldiers. "Hey, hey, easy now. It's me...I mean, I mean...oh crap. Don't shoot. Moira."

She imitated him, raising her hands in the air. She looked back at the other John. He was still staring at her. His intense gaze devouring her.

Sheppard gestured. "Take them to medical," he gruffly said. His voice a raspier version of John's. Similar. Yet not. "Test them. We'll see what trick this is."

Men surrounded her, herded her to John. Then out of the control room. "Wait, wait! John, John..." Moira stammered, looking from one to the other. "What the hell is going on?"

"Take them now!" Sheppard ordered. "How the hell did they get into the city!" he bellowed.

Moira quickly walked with John down the shadowy corridors. "John?"

"Cooperate, Moira. Say nothing," John advised. Pushed roughly they were taken to the infirmary. John stared at the room. It appeared more like a laboratory than a medical center. Tanks and equipment dominated. Jars of specimens lined one wall. John recognized Wraith parts. Heads. Arms. Suckers. He stared round and was pushed to an empty cot.

"Carson? Carson, you..." Moria's relief vanished as the doctor approached. She stared. This Carson was gruffer. He hadn't shaved in days. One scar lined his cheek. His blue eyes appeared weary but contained no sympathy. Not an ounce of compassion as he glared at them. Especially at Moira as if he absolutely hated her.

"Take their blood," Beckett ordered. His voice a rough Scottish brogue containing none of their Carson's gentleness.

Two medics yanked John's arm out, then Moira's. Inserted needles and plied syringes. When they were done John scowled, holding the cotton swab over the injection point. "Ow. Look, Carson, this isn't a trick. We are exactly who we appear to be."

Beckett was silent. He grabbed a handheld scanner. Waved it over John. Grunted. "Human. Earth origin. ATA gene. This identifies him as John Sheppard but the DNA test will confirm it for certain."

"Carson? What happened here? What–"

"Shut up! You! You happened here!" Beckett waved the scanner over her. Moira nearly flinched at the hostility in his voice. Glanced at John who shrugged, as bewildered as she was.

"Human. Earth origin. ATA gene. This identifies her as...as Moira O'Meara...how in the hell is that bloody possible? Will confirm with DNA. Take them."

Soldiers grabbed their arms and dragged them to the lower levels of the city. Flung them into a holding cell. The force field glimmered blue as they were sealed into it. John moved to the door and eyed the two guards staring harshly at them. He glanced at the adjoining cells. Saw a body in one prone on the floor. Tatters of a Genii uniform on him. He sighed. Began to pace. "I don't believe it! I don't believe it! McKay's always going on and on about this, but to see it..."

"Parallel universe?" Moira guessed, catching his arm to stop him. "How did we...the light! The lights I saw in the ocean! John!" She pulled him to the far end of the cell, away from the glowering guards. Lowered her voice. "That must be it. Didn't you see the lights?"

"I was busy at the time," he said wryly. "And they were above me, right?"

"Yes," she frowned.

"What do you remember?"

"I...I don't really know. I was busy at the time," she rejoined, making him briefly smile, "but there were two flashes. Like an aurora borealis underwater. A glimmer of blue and green light dancing in the waves. So bright. I'm not sure..."

He drew her close, glancing round. Having no doubt their every word was being monitored. Their every move as he spotted a tiny camera in one corner of the ceiling. "Okay. Something's gone wrong here, obviously, in this Atlantis. But they're still our own people. They should be reasonable, right?"

"Why is it all military? I didn't see a single civilian, except for Carson. Carson!" She felt an involuntary shudder. "No other scientists. No technicians. And they were all staring at me...even, even John looked like he'd seen a ghost! And Carson...he, he loathes me."

John stroked her arms. "Moira, I'm John. He's not. Not your John. You need to remember that," he insisted, his gaze locked with hers. "All right? Leave your earpiece on channel one. That should just be us and not be linked to any of their frequencies." He ran his fingers through her hair, nimbly adjusting the earpiece as he did. Drew her hair over it. Kissed her suddenly. A warm, loving motion of his lips on hers. "We should be able to find a way to–"

Footsteps. Boots clomping noisily on the floor. Marching. "Well, you are who you appear to be," Jason Reynolds noted, eying them. "McKay's theories are proven correct again."

"Major? Wait, Rodney's here?" John asked, freeing Moira. He moved to the door of the cell. "Let me talk to him! If anyone can explain this it would be McKay! Open the door and–" John paused as a P90 was swung up at him.

The force field melted away. "You. O'Meara. Come with me. Colonel Sheppard wants to see you," Jason intoned in a voice that would brook no argument.

Nevertheless John stepped in front of her. "No, I don't think so. He can see us both."

"John," Moira said, stepping round him. She touched his arm.

"No, Moira. Something's not right!" he protested, but two soldiers entered.

"O'Meara! Now! Or we can do this the hard way," Jason stated. Briefly smiled at the thought.

"No!" Moira moved in front of John. "I'll come!" She turned to him. "Maybe I can find out what's happening here. Besides, it is you, John, a version of you, anyway, so–"

"I don't think it's a good version, Moira," he warned. "Just remember. I'm John. Okay?"

"Okay." She turned, followed the impatient men out of the cell. The force field resumed.

John watched as she was escorted away from him. Surrounded by the grim men in black. All bearing heavy weaponry. He frowned. Resumed pacing. "Moira? Baby, copy?" he quietly asked, tapping his earpiece.

Moira increased her stride to keep up with the men flanking her. "John? Copy, sweetie," she whispered in response, then louder, "Look, he's not a copy of John, or a clone. He is John Sheppard. Just not this universe's John. Do you understand? Ask Rodney. We just want to get back home, all right? To our Atlantis."

One man smiled at her. "That won't happen."

"What? Why not? Surely Rodney can figure out a way to get us back," she argued, but stopped as they had reached their destination. They surrounded her. Briskly knocked on a door. "Colonel? Prisoner delivered as ordered, sir!"

The door opened. Sheppard eyed her. "In." He gestured.

Moira hesitated. Entered the room. Stared round. Realized with a start it was John's room. But not. Devoid of any of his things, his personality. The walls were bare except for a tattered Johnny Cash poster. The bed was neatly made. No guitar was propped in a corner. Only a few books were lined up precisely on a table. There were no golf clubs. No DVD player. Moira took a steadying breath. Released it. "Colonel Sheppard, your tests must have proven to you who we are. That we are real, just different versions from a, a parallel universe. I'm sure your McKay could explain it better, and help us get back to our Atlantis. I don't know what's happened here, in your Atlantis...and I'm sorry...but I know you will help us." She turned. His silence unnerving. "Won't you?"

"You died."

Two words. Raspy voice stating them calmly. Only a hint of emotion.

Moira stared. "I died?" she repeated.

John froze in his cell. "You died?" he repeated, listening. Could only hear Moira's voice.

"Yes, Moira." Sheppard moved to her. Touched her cheek, her hair. Her throat. Her shoulder. "You...died. In my arms."

Moira gulped, swallowed. Stepped back. "Your Moira died. Not, not me." She hesitated. Forced the question out. "How?"

"The Wraith," Sheppard answered, suddenly looking at the floor. Unable to meet her gaze as emotions swarmed over him. "They took you. For your ATA gene. For, for breeding."

Moira froze. "That, that happened in our universe as well. But, but we escaped. Evan and I went back to Atlantis. But we had to go back to that planet to remember what was done to us. And you, I mean, John...John went with us."

Sheppard met her anxious brown eyes. "You never returned. I headed a search for you and for Major Lorne. We searched two months before we found you. What the queen did to you..."

Moira felt her heart hammering. She stumbled, sat on the bed. "You mean...you mean the breeding? The harvest...it...it was successful?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God..." Horror crashed on her. She felt a surge of tears. Clutched her hands together.

"Moira, Moira, it wasn't you," John said quietly. Appalled. He had resumed pacing in a circle, a frenetic repetition as his own emotions swarmed. "Sweetheart, you're you. You're fine."

"John," she whispered, his voice a balm in her ear. But Sheppard moved to her. Sat close.

"We found you but it was too late. The queen had fled with her genetic material," Sheppard explained. "Implementing the crisis we now face. You...you had been tortured. Repeatedly. You, you were dying. You begged me to kill you. The pain...the revulsion of what had been done to you, over and over...you begged me to kill you...so I..."

Moira was staring. Shocked. Horrified. Terrified. "Oh my God...oh my..." Suddenly she couldn't breathe.

"Moira, Moira, it's not you. It was never you," John intoned, hearing her panic. Wondered what he wasn't hearing. "Moira, it's not you!"

"John...John?" she whispered, clawing for an anchor.

Sheppard took her into his arms. Held her tightly. "Moira! Moira, you begged me!" he insisted, voice harsh with desperation. Regret.

"I didn't get away...I didn't...oh God! They harvested me...harvested my...Evan...Evan's dead, isn't he? Oh Evan...and you..." Her voice was a stammering sound.

"Moira, Moira, please, it wasn't you! Remember that! It wasn't you!" John urged, clenching his fists tightly. Having heard her words he knew what had happened. The harvest. Breeding the ATA gene to produce it repeatedly, then harvesting the embryos to somehow combine that genetic code into the Wraith. He longed to go to her, to give her the comfort she sought.

"John...John...help me," she whispered. A small voice crying out in the darkness enfolding her. The memories of the pain inflicted. The horrible imaginings of the queen's plans succeeding. Tears fell from her eyes.

"Moira, Moira, hold onto my voice. Sweetheart, it's not you. Not you! You came back, remember? You and Lorne. I went with you. You shot the queen, remember?" John reminded, voice calm but his heart raced.

"I shot the queen...to save you...to save you. What she wanted to do to you...John..." Moira took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. Finding comfort in John's voice, in Sheppard's arms. It was a strange kind of comfort that unsettled her.

"Moira, you begged me to kill you...to end your suffering. Your revulsion so I...I did," Sheppard said. He sat back from her. Wiped her tears from her rosy face. "Moira..."

"You..." She swallowed, lost in his haunted green eyes. The sorrow, the guilt, the intensity. She was silent, unable to say it, unwilling for her John to hear that. "You did what you had to do, colonel. If, if that is what your Moira wanted."

"Do? What did I do? I mean what did he do? Moira?" John felt trapped in a nightmare. Pacing. Listening. Dreading whatever his darker version had done. Feeling sick at the thought that this version's Moira had died.

"You did. She did," Sheppard clarified. "But you are the same. Moira." He kissed her suddenly. A long, probing kiss that made her push yet pull. Kissing John but not John.

"Moira? Moira, what's happening?" John's anxious voice in her ear as Sheppard's mouth entwined with hers.

She pulled back, startled. "John? John!" She gasped as Sheppard pushed her hair from her ear. Saw the earpiece. "No..."

"Moira? What is–"

Sheppard pulled the earpiece from her. Shut it off and slid it into his pocket. "You've been talking to him all along?" He scowled.

"Yes, colonel. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for what happened to you! I can't even begin to imagine what you..." She looked at the floor. "I can, I mean...I can imagine what you–"

"No, you can't." He stood. "And you won't. You're not leaving the city. Ever."

"Colonel?" she asked, gaze shooting up to his.

"Call me John!" he flared, voice raw. Seeing her flinch he softened his tone. "I'm not losing you a second time, Moira."

"I'm not your Moira, colonel. I'm his. The man in the cell is my John," she argued.

"Not any more," Sheppard insisted.

Moira stood, caught his arm. "Colonel....John," she corrected, seeing his ire, his pain. "Please, you can't–"

"I can and I will," he said. Held up his hand, considering. "McKay will help him get back. We can't have an Atlantis without a John Sheppard, now can we?" He smiled briefly. But it did not reach his eyes. "But I can't have an Atlantis without you. No longer. You must be hungry," he suddenly switched topics, voice relaxing now that he had made his decision. "I'll get us some dinner. Pink lemonade, right?"

Moira stared, startled. Anxious. "You, you can't! I don't belong here!"

"You do now." He turned, moved to the door. Opened it but looked over his shoulder at her. "This door locks from the outside. To keep you safely here."

"No! Colonel Sheppard, I don't belong here!" she protested again.

Sheppard smiled, said before closing the door, "This is your Atlantis now, Moira. And I am your John."


	3. Chapter 3

Parallel Evolution3

John paced. Paced. Every nerve tense. Locked in an anxious reverie as he hadn't been able to contact Moira. He clasped his hands behind his back. Fingers entwining tightly as he forced a calm onto himself. Pushed all emotion aside as he had to think clearly. Footsteps made him stop. He strode to the front of the cell. Two soldiers escorted Rodney McKay towards him. A very harassed but otherwise completely recognizable McKay. "Rodney! Thank God! Rodney, what the hell happened here? I need to get to Moira! My Moira! We need to get out of here!"

McKay stood, staring at him. "I...I had to see for myself," he muttered. Ran a hand over his clean-shaven chin.

"Rodney, focus! You can't be that surprised!" John spoke rapidly. "Parallel universes are nothing for you, are they? There was a light in the ocean depths, an aurora borealis flash-like thing. The Jumper! The Jumper will have recorded it, registered it before we were pulled in here! We were at the bottom of the ocean when all of this happened! Check the Jumper's sensory readouts. You've got to get us home! Where is everyone? Elizabeth? Teyla? Ronon? Even Zelenka or, or–"

"I take it then that your world hasn't faced this. The rise of the new Wraith."

"The new Wraith? What are you..." John thought fast. Remembered snatches of Moira's words. "The breeding program? The harvest? It worked here."

"Yes. We don't fully understand how, but it did. With devastating results. Colonel Sheppard managed to evacuate most of the city's civilian personnel before the first wave hit. After that..."

Rodney shrugged. Sighed. "I'm sorry, John, but we don't have teams any more. We don't go on missions. Our mission here is to survive. Just survive."

John stared. Aghast. Noticed the glint of a gold wedding ring on McKay's finger and wondered.

"What of Elizabeth? And my team?"

"Gone. Elizabeth fell in the first wave of the attack before we could raise the shield and defend the city. Teyla took her people and went back to New Athos. To lead them, she said, as she should have been doing all along. Ronon is holding the Beta site but we haven't heard from them in a month and we fear it has fallen. Zelenka...didn't make it either." Rodney glanced at the floor. A rush of emotion playing across his face. "So many didn't make it."

"I...I'm sorry, Rodney. Truly. Is that what happened to the northeast tower?"

"Yes." McKay met his gaze. "The first strike. Caught us completely off-guard. And with the ATA gene these Wraith are unstoppable. We're trying to find a way to eliminate them, well, Beckett was...is..."

"With the ATA gene they could access all our systems, our ships, our computers, our..."

"Exactly," Rodney agreed. Briefly smiled. "You are John Sheppard...the John before..."

"You have to help us get back to our Atlantis, Rodney! As much as I would like to help we need to get back to our own version. And Moira...it's not safe for Moira here."

Rodney's expression saddened. Had such compassion it threw John for a moment. "I'm sorry, John. That won't happen. You are the John before, before she died. Before you killed her."

John stared. Shocked. "I...no. I could never–"

McKay stepped closer, voice lowering. "You did, John. Well, our Colonel Sheppard did. I was there. I'm the only one who knows. Moira was dying. From the torture, what had been done to her. The harvesting of her fertilized eggs. Over and over. She begged him to end it for her. And, and he...did."

"No, no!" John involuntarily took a step backwards. Looked at the floor in disbelief, in horror. Even as he could imagine the scenario. The ugly necessity. "Not mine. Not my Moira! I saved her! She saved me! God...I would never, never..."

"But he did. And their experiments were successful. The new Wraith ATA hybrids. We're barely surviving here, John."

John swallowed. Met Rodney's somber look. "That explains the militarization of the city. The other off-world sites as bases. The..." He felt his throat closing and he swallowed again. Considering what the effect all of that would have on him. The effect of Moira's death. Of having killed her. Another death. Another one at his hands. Literally. He could almost feel his fingers closing around her throat, squeezing. Squeezing. He forced the sensations aside before he vomited.

"I will look at your ship. Maybe I can find something in the data recorder," McKay offered. "Get you back to your Atlantis. But not Moira, John." John's gaze shot up to him. "He'll never let her go now that he has her. Another Moira."

"I won't leave without her," John asserted tersely.

"You will. You won't have a choice, I'm afraid. I'm sorry." He turned, motioned to the guards and headed out of the room.

"No! McKay! McKay!" John shouted after him.

**************************************************************************

Moira banged on the door. Waved her hand uselessly over the panel. Nothing happened. "Damn it! Colonel! Colonel Sheppard!" She hit the door again. Swore again. Moved to search the meager room. Chilled at the lack of hardly any of his belongings. As if John's personality had been wiped clean in this version. Or purposefully erased. She tried not to think of that other Moira. Her horrible fate. Her horrible request of the colonel. His fulfillment of it. She could only imagine his grief, his guilt afterwards. Could only imagine it too well as her own past surfaced before she shut it down.

Frantic searches of drawers produced an earpiece. She slipped it into her pocket. She found a 9mm handgun. She checked the safety, tucked it in her pants behind her, shoving her shirt over it. She froze at the last drawer. Felt a shiver recognizing her things. Not her things. She slammed the drawer shut, whirled as the door opened. She rushed to stand at the empty table.

Sheppard entered, closed the door. Carried a tray of food and drink to the table. Moira stared at the parody of their picnic. A pink lemonade. A beer. Hot dogs. Salad. She forced down the urge to vomit. To scream. Stared at the man she knew was John, but wasn't. Considered. "Let's eat," Sheppard intoned. "I'm starving."

Moira swallowed. "May I...um...may I see John first, colonel? To, to say goodbye...if I must?"

He eyed her. Silent. Speculative. "You think I'd believe you'd give up so easily? So quickly acquiesce?"

"No. But I have a feeling you won't give me a second chance to see him."

"True."

"Please, colonel, er, John. Think if it was you down there instead of being here. You're, you're the same...sort of..."

"Sort of," he agreed, studying her. "All right. I can't refuse you a thing. Except you leaving me. That will never happen again."

"It would be better if you weren't there. It would be–"

"Awkward, yes." He moved to the door, opened it. "Reynolds, escort Moira to the prisoner. Give them ten, no five minutes to say goodbye. Then bring her back to me."

"Yes, sir!" Reynolds saluted.

Moira stepped to the doorway, touched Sheppard's arm. "Thank you."

"I can be generous, Moira. Especially as what he will go through is nothing. Nothing compared to what I endured."

She followed the soldier down the hallways. Noting more guards. More men at attention. A gloom filled the shadows. Lights flickered. It was a silent trip in the transporter to the lower levels. To the holding cells. Passwords were exchanged but Moira couldn't quite catch them.

John strode to the front of the cell, scarcely believing his eyes. "Moira?" Relief and suspicion intermingled. As guns were raised he stepped backwards. "Moira, are you all right?"

The force field evaporated. "Five minutes," Reynolds announced.

Moira darted into the cell. The force field glimmered around them again. "John." She hugged him tightly, fiercely. Melting into the feel of him, the scent of him. Her John.

"Moira." He kissed her brow, holding her tightly. As if he would never let go. "Sweetheart."

Moira pulled back. "We don't have much time. Listen to me." She drew him into the back of the cell, turned so his back faced the guards. "He wants to have dinner."

"Dinner? He–"

"Listen!" she hissed, taking the gun out of her pants. "I'll insist that you eat too. When your dinner arrives make the most of it. Turn!" They turned, reversing positions. She wrapped her arms around him. Lifted his shirt. Ran her hand into his pants and placed the gun there. "Do what you have to do, John, but please be careful!"

"Whoa! What...oh please tell me the safety's on," he quipped as her hands freed him.

She smiled. "Yes. I don't want to shoot your fine, fine ass, sweetie. Here." She pulled the earpiece out of her pocket, shoved it into his front pocket.

"Whoa, hello there, baby," he muttered as her fingers slid down his thigh.

"Earpiece. You can listen in on their frequencies. The, the colonel has mine but I'll try to get it back so I can contact you."

John kissed her. A slow, savoring kiss. "Clever, Moira. I'll come for you, I promise. I'm sure as hell not leaving you here."

"I was hoping you'd say that, John. I'll give you as much time as I can. You know I can talk and talk so that should–"

"Do whatever you have to do, Moira, but be careful. I mean it. This, this is like a dark side version of me."

"It's still you, though, John. Sort of. He won't hurt me."

"He fucking killed you, Moira! Well, her."

"How–"

"McKay."

"You saw Rodney?"

"Yes, and he's looking at the Jumper. They will want to send me back ASAP. He will. But you, you–"

"He won't let me go," she finished for him. A flat statement.

"No. But I won't leave without you. Moira," his voice dropped lower. Urgent. "This colonel, he's a dark side version of me. He's not me. Not your John. I don't know if he'll hurt you, but I do know he wants you. Completely. He won't relent until he's had you."

Moira colored. "I...I won't do it, John, you–"

"Look, he'll know what to do, what to say. Hell, you already feel sympathy for him, compassion because he's me. A version of me. He'll know exactly what buttons to push because he knows you. A version of you. Look, if you do anything, I mean...you need to cooperate. Play along. It doesn't matter what happens, if you...I guess it's not cheating technically because it is me...sort of...but not me...what I'm trying to say is do what you have to do survive."

Moira stared as he glanced at the wall, uncomfortable. Upset. She touched his arms. "John...it's not you. A different you...it's so weird, John...what he's gone through, but no. I won't do that. I won't. I won't–"

John met her gaze, pulling her closer. His body brushing up against hers now as footsteps sounded. "Just stay safe, Moira. Play for time. I'll come for you."

She felt tears. "John, John, no. I won't! I love you, John, I–"

He kissed her, ignoring the guards. Ignoring the force field as it evaporated. Ignored Reynolds as he called her. "I love you, Moira. Be safe. That's all that matters."

"John!"

"Come on!" Reynolds grabbed her arm, pulled her away.

John followed after them, holding her gaze. "Be safe, Moira! That's all that matters!" he repeated. Reached the threshold of the cell but was shoved backwards. The force field emitted a blue glow as it was activated again.

"John! I won't! You can trust me!" she called over her shoulder as Reynolds let her from the holding cells. She was hauled to a transporter, shoved inside.

"Take her to Colonel Sheppard!" Reynolds ordered. Whirled and headed back to the cells.

"No! Where are you going? Wait!" A soldier grabbed her arm. Dragged her down the hallways.

Moira fought, stubbornly resisting. "Where is he going? What is he going to do? Wait! Wait! Let go! Let go! You're hurting me! Let–" She fell against the wall as a gunshot hit the man cleaning in the forehead. He fell silently to the floor. Blood pooled. She stared in shock. The other guards watched without emotion.

"Anyone else who hurts her ends up like him. Understood?" Sheppard barked.

"Yes, sir!" The men chorused.

Sheppard eyed her. "In."

Moira shuddered, entered the room. Composing herself. Recalling that John had killed for her too, but only after a brutal attack. The same, and not the same. She repeated the words over and over in her mind. He's not my John. He's not my John.

"Let's eat," Sheppard said. His casual tone revealing no emotion over just killing one of his own men. He led her to the table. They sat.

Moira had no appetite. She drank some lemonade. Ate a few bites of salad. Plotted as Sheppard wolfed down his food, his beer. "Colonel, thank you. Thank you for letting me see him. You will allow him a meal, won't you? Please?"

Sheppard eyed her. "Only if you stop calling me colonel. Call me by my name."

"Okay, John." Not my John she silently repeated.

He tapped his earpiece. "Reynolds, when you're done with our guest see that he has something to eat. Before he leaves us." He smiled. "He'll be leaving. Soon. With a full escort. For some reason I don't quite trust him."

She would have smiled but the eerie similarity was unnerving. As were his words. "What, what is Reynolds going to do? Colonel, er, John...you wouldn't..." Horrible things shone in her eyes.

"Wouldn't? Wouldn't what?" he asked. "Nothing like that. We can use his intel. And I'm sure he'll cooperate with us. One way or another. This is Atlantis, right?"

She frowned. "You mean to ensure my safety he'll cooperate."

"Yes. Like I said. One way or another. Eat."

Moira ate a little more. Forcing the food down. "Tell me about the, these ATA Wraith."

"Ah. Still the scientist, I see. We can't defeat them. Not entirely. Not yet. They can access all of our technology, our systems, our ships. And they are creating some kind of cross-breed with the retro-virus and the Hoffan serum. We haven't figured it out yet. Our intel suppliers keep ending up dead. Or worse."

"We ran into something similar but they haven't succeeded. Yet. They don't have the ATA gene."

"I've had to send all of the civilians back to Earth. As many as I could before the first wave of attacks. Still...we lost...many. Except for those I deem necessary the rest are at our other sites."

"Like Carson?"

"Yes. His knowledge is indispensable. Now that you are here you can work with him. Once I have a talk with him." His expression darkened. "He needs your help whether he will admit it or not. Hell, we all need your help, Moira."

She stared at the plate of food. The mantra of not my John in her head. "I can't help you. This is not my Atlantis."

"It is now." He stood. Took her hand. Drew her to her feet. Towards the bed. "I think we've talked enough, haven't we? I hate talking."

"Look, um, colonel, er, John, this is not...this is not easy for me. Okay, this is really, really weird. I don't think we should rush into anything. If you need my help I can try to help your research into the ATA Wraith but I'll need samples and whatever data you've collected to–"

He kissed her, pulling her into his arms. Cutting off her words. Her delays. His hands wandered over her. Tugging, pulling at her clothing. At her hair. "Moira. I've only had dreams until now. Memories."

She pushed free but bumped into the bed. "I'm sure you've had other women, colonel. Plenty of other women."

"Yes," he agreed. "But it was just sex. It never meant anything." He sat on the bed. Pulled her onto it next to him. "It wasn't you, Moira. Never you."

She stood. "Look, this isn't easy for me–" She gasped as he pulled her back onto the bed. Shoved her onto her back as she scrambled, trying to get away.

"It will be. In time." He kissed her, ran his hands over her body. His weight pressing, pinning her. His mouth slowly moved down her throat. "Moira," he breathed against her skin. Voice huskier, deeper. Making her shiver. The stubbly scruff scratching her skin. "Give yourself to me." He slid up her shirt. Unhooked the bra. Freed her breasts to fondle. To kiss.

Moira shifted. A welter of confused emotions made her head spin. Her brain knew this was not her John but her body did not. Reacted in welcoming surrender even as she fought to stop herself. Tears filled her eyes. Tension coiled in her body. "Colonel–"

"John," he corrected, kissing her breasts. Mouth running roughly down her side. "I'm the same, Moira. The same. The man you love."

"You..." Her fingers tangled in his hair. She felt his fingers at her pants. Prying. Probing. "Did you sing to her, John? Did you ever?"

He met her gaze, distracted by the question. He smiled. "No. I only sing when I'm drunk. Really drunk."

"Then you're not him. Because he did," she argued.

"Then I will, Moira. If it makes you happy. Makes you mine." He kissed her again. Tongue thrusting into her mouth. Then he slid his attentions down to her breasts again. He groaned.

Moira could feel his erection pressing, pressing at her thigh. She shifted to avoid it, trying to reign in her own body's answering desires. "Did you ever give her a bracelet? Did you?"

"No." He glanced up, hands sliding down to push between her legs. "I didn't."

"My John did."

"I'm your John now, Moira. Forget the other one. There's only me now. Ah...my Moira..." His fingers thrust. Dug into her crotch.

She squirmed, wincing. He was rushing, hurting her. The pain focused her. John had never hurt her. Even when the sex had been hungered, rushed, lustful. He had never hurt her. It cleared her mind if not her body. Sheppard unzipped her pants, shoved his hand into the fabric. Nearly growled with anticipation. "Colonel, no! I can't do this. Yet...I can't...you wouldn't force me, would you, John? John?"

He met her gaze, eyes narrowing. "Of course not, Moira. You'll come to me. Easily enough. I know how to make you come, don't I?" he smiled.

"How do I know you won't force me? You killed her, didn't you?" She braced herself for the inevitable blow, the pain. Waited. Met his gaze. Gulped at the anguish on his handsome face. "John...I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

He slid up, pinned her arms above her head. Kissed her. "Moira. God...I will never force you! Never hurt you! Moira, I didn't want to kill you! Her! You begged me, you..." He hid his face in her hair. Breath shaky. A heaving sob came and went. He freed her arms.

Moira felt tears, couldn't help it. He was so like her John it tore her heart. "I'm sorry, John! I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you! I 'm sorry you had to endure that! I'm sorry! She never should have asked that of you! It wasn't fair of her. I can't imagine the agony she was in, to ask that of you. I..." She found herself stroking his back, his hair. Comforting. "I can imagine how you must feel, John...to be the cause of, of someone's death. Someone you loved. To have them die and not be able to do anything about it...to have killed them yourself..."

He lifted his face. Tears sparkled in his brilliant green eyes. "You? How would you know? No, Moira...you cannot possibly know. Any of it. Would you? Would you ask it of me?"

"I don't know. I didn't go through that. I..." She pondered as he caressed her hot cheek. "I wouldn't. I couldn't do that to you. I don't know..."

He kissed her. "You're stronger. Than she was."

"I didn't suffer like she did," Moira countered.

"You're stronger," Sheppard insisted. "You are her, yet you're not. I didn't have a choice, Moira. I didn't..."

She caressed his face. "You blame her. For making you do it. No, I know," she forestalled his protest. "You hate her, even. In that one moment you hated her for her weakness. No," she turned his face back to hers, saw the guilt. The acknowledgment. "I don't blame you. She probably wouldn't either. I don't know but I'm sure she forgave you. You have to forgive yourself, John. You're still in there, somewhere. The John before all of this."

He closed his eyes, hid his face in hair, on her shoulder. "Moira, I can't. Not for this. Not for any of the others. Not for the first, the worst one at my hands, at my own negligence! Only you can bring me back. Only you seem to understand, Moira. I can be the man you want me to be. The same as the man in the cell. You'll see. You'll see."

"No." She kissed his brow, tears in her eyes. "You'll never be that man. My John. What you have experienced here he hasn't. He won't. And I'll never be the Moira you knew. I can't be. My experiences aren't hers."

"You're better," he said quietly. Calm now. In control. "Stronger. Like me." He kissed her. Moved against her roughly. "I'm not giving you up. Ever." He yanked down her pants, panties. Hands cupping her rear, lifting her to fling her legs apart. "Moira." He yanked the clothing off of her lower body.

Moira squirmed, struggling. Uncertain. Her body betraying her. Her emotions betraying her as he moved between her legs. His mouth seeking. Finding. She gasped, murmured, a whimper escaping her lips. "John! John, please..."

"Please?" He lifted his head, body sliding along hers. "Moira, I have to have you...I'm never letting you go. Never." He groaned, barely entered her when she caught him between her thighs. A desperate squirm to trap him. To squeeze.

Sheppard groaned loudly, came in a sudden spasm. A rush of straining release as she squirmed, slid along him. Pressing until she freed him. He thrust, thrust between her thighs, unable to stop, unable to enter her as the physical demand took over. He shuddered, spurted on her thighs, the bed.

Moira slowed her breathing, scooted out from under him. Scooted to the edge of the bed and drew her legs up to conceal herself. Felt hot. Frustrated. Embarrassed all at once. She waited for the anger. The violence. Closed her eyes in preparation for a blow, a hit. Waited. Heard his strenuous breathing, the groans. The long exhalation. She opened her eyes as a new, unexpected sound reached her ears. Laughter.

Sheppard rolled onto his back, breathing deeply. Eyed her. "Clever, Moira. Very. The first round is yours, honey. Give me five, no, ten minutes and I'll take the second."

"Some things never change," she muttered.

He laughed again. "God, I haven't done that in a long time."

"What?" She glanced at him, sitting now, yanking her shirt down. "Come?"

He laughed again. "No." He sobered. "Laughed."

Moira winced, the words as hard as any blow, any hit. Tears threatened. She stared at the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

Parallel Evolution4

Boots clomping in perfect time on the hard floor alerted John. He had resumed pacing. Pacing like a caged tiger, just waiting for a chance. Biding his time impatiently. Putting all thoughts of Moira aside, all concerns. He felt the gun securely at his back, in his pants. Remembered the feel of her fingers skimming over his skin. He felt the earpiece secure in his front pocket. He straightened visibly. Stood, hands clasped casually behind his back as the marines came into view. They parted to reveal Reynolds and another man that made John stare.

"Lower the force field. This won't take long. I'm sure you will cooperate, sir," Reynolds said with a smile. The blue energy shield wavered. Disappeared.

"Colonel Everett," John identified as the older, buzz-cut man entered the cell. His expression grim. Lines marked his aged face, but his gait was sure. Steady. "You...you were fed on by the Wraith, in my reality. Sent back to Earth. How–"

"Same here. Then I came back. Beckett found a way to reverse the process. Somewhat." Dillon Everett's voice rasped. Like fingernails on a chalkboard but his narrow eyes were sharp. Penetrating as he stepped up to John. "We need information."

"On what? This is your world, colonel, not mine," John retorted. Taking a step backwards as if intimidated but turning just slightly to keep his back in the shadows. To keep the gun hidden. He flicked a glance at the cell opening where Reynolds stood, holding a data screen. Looked back to see Dillon glaring at him.

"I hated you. Him. But I understood why you killed Sumner. Why you killed O'Meara, even."

John flinched. Kept his composure. "I did not kill Moira. He did."

Dillon smiled briefly. "You'll do the same, if need be. Now, I need intel. Exactly on how you got here in the first place. McKay's working on the physics angle. I need the other. Reynolds!"

Reynolds entered, opened the data screen. Turned it so John could see. Blue colors shifted, faded. A schematic of the city, then the mainland appeared. "Do you see anything significantly different from your Atlantis? Sir," he added as John managed to glare at him. Expectant.

John studied the screen. "No. Except the destruction of the northeast tower. That hasn't happened in my world. In fact I figured that area would be the first to–"

"Yes, so did Sheppard. But the engineers assured otherwise. Their mistake, and now ours. The first incursion happened there. Before we could react."

"They can access your systems with the ATA gene...infiltrate like they never have before," John mused. Rubbed his chin. Glanced up to see Everett staring at him. "I don't see what I can add to this intel. You've got a Sheppard already. He knows what I know, right?"

"True. But your reality is different." Everett grabbed the screen, thrust it towards John who had no other option but to grab it before it fell to the floor. "Access codes."

"Excuse me?" John asked. Tensing.

"Access codes. Now! We need yours. For your city."

"Whoa, whoa, why? And how come they aren't the same for here?" John asked.

"You don't need to know that. Access codes! Now!" Everett motioned. Guns were raised towards John. Threatening.

John closed the data screen. "No," he said mildly.

"You don't have a choice, sir. Or is your Moira's fate nothing to you, hmm?" Reynolds asked.

John met the man's gloating gaze. "Oh, it is. But I know for damn sure she's fine. I know that Sheppard won't let anything happen to her."

"Not until it fulfills his agenda, no. But he's not here all of the time. And Beckett needs her DNA. Needs it real bad, and I can authorize that with a snap of my fingers." Everett demonstrated. Smiled. "So you give us your access codes and I'll be sure to keep Beckett away from her. Simple as that."

"No," John replied. A fist slammed into his face. He spun with the blow, fell to his knees. Felt the gun shift but remain concealed at his back. He wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Very nice. Is this how Atlantis is these days? Maybe it's not worth saving."

"You bastard! You and your–" Reynolds advanced, fists swinging but Everett restrained him.

"No. We'll get those codes, one way or another. Maybe I'll let Beckett do a little test. Just a little one on your precious girlfriend. Even Sheppard will see the necessity of that. I'll even film it for you so you can watch her pain."

John glowered, moving to his feet as they exited the cell. "Hey! Hey! Where is my dinner? Doesn't this Atlantis feed its prisoners? You know I am John Sheppard! Colonel John Sheppard and in charge of this fucking city! Your spare Sheppard in case the first one falls, did you ever think of that? Give me my fucking dinner!"

"Get him some food," Reynolds ordered. Glanced back as the force field resumed. He waited until Dillon had left with the contingent of marines. "You made a good point, sir. A spare Sheppard. We could use that." Then he was gone.

**********************************************************************

Moira relaxed a little, just a little as Sheppard stretched out on the bed. Scooting up next to her. Still his feet dangled over the edge. Just like her John's bed. His shirt slid up and Moira stared at the vivid bruising on his torso. Long scratch marks across the ribs. What looked like an old bullet injury near his waist. Scars disappearing into his opened pants. She gingerly touched him.

"How..."

"War," he brusquely answered. "It's brutal. Scars everywhere, well, nearly. Except on my back." He lifted his shirt to show her. Cuts along his collarbone. Five marks on his chest near his heart. Scabbed and reddish, still visible against his skin, through the chest hair. The silver dog tags glinted.

Moira stared, horrified. She ran her fingers up his chest. Along the scar tissue. The five marks so near his heart. "Wraith?"

"Yes. The queen. The one who took you. A month after you...she died. We found her but it was too late. The experiments had spread to other hives. Communicated to other Wraith queens and scientists. We destroyed her. Her hive. And what, what, um, offspring we found."

Moira's brown eyes widened. She met his gaze. "Offspring?" she whispered. Felt a chill. She withdrew her hand, looked at the room. The blank walls. "I killed her," she diverted, but the word offspring circled in her mind like a virus. "The queen. Shot her. To save John. To save all of us from that."

"To save me? You? She couldn't even handle a gun," Sheppard noted. Watching her. The similarity to his Moira uncanny. But he found it reassuring. Comforting. Amazing.

"I can't either, not really," she admitted. Sighed. Couldn't delay the question any longer. She looked back at him. "Offspring?"

He nodded. Looked away from her. Then back to her. Oddly uncomfortable. "I...I really don't want to tell you, Moira."

She swallowed. "Tell me, John." She touched his arm. "I need to know." She glanced at the walls. Wondered how John was doing. Worried. Appalled at that one word. "Offspring?"

Sheppard sat, turned her face to his. Gaze so solemn. "Their experiments. When they didn't harvest the genetic tissues. Let them develop farther along...and then...altered them. With Wraith DNA to expedite the process."

She stared. "You mean...children?" she whispered.

"Yes...but no. Not recognizably human. Not like that. Not after what they did. Um...creatures. Things that had to be put down. Genetic abnormalities. Combinations of ATA and Wraith DNA and God knows what else. They were horrible, Moira. Unlike anything I've ever seen. Grown in a lab, I guess...I don't know." He caressed her cheek. "There were others."

"Others?" she asked, not understanding. Trying to imagine the horrors he had witnessed. The biological outcome of those experiments.

"Other women. With the ATA gene. They're aren't many, did you know that? I sent all of ours back to Earth. Couldn't take the risk of unleashing yet another wave of those...monstrosities. The Wraith need the female genetic tissue to engender the ATA gene for them. Fertilized with a male ATA gene carrier. Beckett's done most of the research on this. We're still missing something. Some vital element. Some chink in their armor so we can defeat them."

Moira stared at her hands. "Yours is the strongest. Did you know that? Your gene."

"Yes. I know. And yours, Moira. Why do you think Beckett wants to get his hands on you? But he'll have to go through me first."

************************************************************************

"About time, major!" John snapped. He stepped back as the force field vanished. A man was carrying a tray. Looking nervous. "I'm starving! Come on!"

"Yes, sir." His companion raised a gun as the other man entered the cell.

"Hey, unarmed. Tell me, what's on the menu tonight?" John asked, tone almost bored. Gaze moving from one to the other.

"Stew again, sir."

"Stew? God, I'm tired of stew! Aren't you?" John complained. "Is that all we have?"

"War rations, sir."

"I bet there's no beer either?"

"No, sir," the man smiled in sympathy.

"Damn. No need to hang around here, then, is there?"

"Sir? You–"

John pivoted, kicking out. The platter flew up into the man's face. Showering him with stew. As he fell backwards John pulled the gun from his pants, clicked off the safety. Ducked and rolled to shoot the other man as he fired his P90. John hit the man's leg. "Not so fast!" John leapt to his feet, catching the man as he tried to lurch towards the comm unit. Punched the man in the face, dropping him to the floor. "Sorry." He dragged him back into the cell, hit the other man until he was unconscious as well. Took their guns and their earpieces. Set the force field. "Okay, so far, so good." He hefted the P90s. Tucked the 9mm back into his pants.

He darted across the holding cell. Keeping to the shadows. Knowing he did not have much time before he was discovered. "I'm coming, Moira, hold on," he muttered. Tapped his earpiece. "Moira, copy? Baby, do you read?" He swore at the silence. Ran quickly down the hallway, avoiding the transporters. Froze, debating how to get past the marines stationed on duty in the upper levels.

**************************************************************************

Sheppard lifted her face to his, kissed her. Another kiss as he moved her onto her back. Slid over her. "Moira, give yourself to me. As it should be. As it was before."

"I–"

He kissed her again, but drew back. "What?" He listened to the voice talking into his earpiece.

Frowned. Scowled.

Moira took the opportunity as she shifted under him to slide her hand into his pants pocket and grab her earpiece. She snatched it and slid it under her. Watched Sheppard revert into the bitter, stern colonel they had first encountered. Felt a chill.

Sheppard eyed her. "Very well. Find him. Now. I'm on my way. I won't tolerate this." He rolled off her, fixed his pants and moved to his feet. Grabbed his P90. As she scrambled into a seated position he said, "I'll be back. You're going no where and we have plenty of time to become intimately reacquainted." He left.

Moira scrambled off the bed, slid on the earpiece. Yanked on her panties and pants, embarrassed. Worried. Ran to the bathroom and yanked them down again to clean off any evidence. She restored her clothes once more. Tried the door. She swore, searched the room again. Found a big hand gun. Turned it in her hands, having no clue as to how to use it. It reminded her of Ronon's big gun but it was different. "Hurry, John, hurry," she muttered.

*************************************************************************

John had infiltrated one of the control rooms. He disabled the ZPM, using not his own codes but Rodney's which were the same in both realities. The lights flickered. Flashed. Went dark. Emergency strobes gleamed. An alarm blared. Quickly John exited the room, ran but slid to a stop seeing marines marching towards him. He whirled and ran the other way. Using his knowledge of the city he utilized the back ways. Taking stairs two at a time. Avoiding the soldiers swarming the hallways now. Shouting as the darkness aided his stealth.

He circled round, taking the most indirect route to where he knew his room was. Knowing that Moira was there. Knowing too his objective would be guessed. Anticipated. He slowed, approached the dark hallway. Found it deserted. Scowled, sensing a trap. But having no other option he made his way carefully into the shadows.

Reaching the door John waved his hand over it. The door did not budge. He tried again. He pried open the panel, saw a flashing screen demanding an access code. "A little paranoid, are we?" he muttered. Didn't have time to guess. He stepped back, fired his P90 into the panel.

Gunfire made Moira jump, nearly yelp. She stared as the door slid, stopped, slid open. Sparks flew and crackled. She lifted the gun, pointed it.

John ran into the room, stopped upon seeing the emptiness of it. Not seeing a single thing of his except the poster on the wall. Saw Moira holding a gun on him. "Moira! Moira, whoa, whoa, sweetheart, that looks like a modified Glock. Very sensitive. Easy."

"John?"

"Yes, you need to–"

"No!" She stared at him, uncertain. Not trusting the different clothes, the different attitude. "What do you call me?"

"What? We don't have time for–"

"What do you call me that I hate?" she asked. Holding the gun on him still.

"Baby. I call you baby and you hate it, so you call me sweetie which grates on my nerves. Moira, it's me! Honestly, the real me! Well, your me!"

She relaxed, lowered the gun. "John!"

He moved to the door. "Come on! We have to move quickly. Bring that. He knows I'm here. Is probably plotting to trap us. Stay behind me, Moira." He peered out into the darkness. Bullets flew. "Shit." He fired. "Moira! Come on! I'll cover you! Run!"

Moira slid past him as he fired down the hallway. She ran, flew around the corner. "John!" She fired the big gun. A blazing laser sped above him as he ducked, whirled, then ran to her. It blossomed into several more, striking the targets. Men fell back yelling.

"Shit. Let's go, run!" John snatched the stolen earpiece, slid it on and tapped it. All the while running after Moira as she rounded yet another corner and climbed some stairs. "Crap." He caught her arm, stopping her. "Wait! Here." He drew her into an alcove. "Moira, you'll have to get us out."

"What?"

"I can't. This is impossible! He thinks like I do, Moira. He'll know exactly what I know, what I'll do, how I'll move. I don't know if I can out think myself, so you need to do it. Lead us to the Jumper bay. A way you go that I don't know about. It's our only chance."

"I..." She considered, forcing down her qualms seeing his urgency. "Okay, okay, there is a way. A short cut when I'm in the lab. Evan..." she paused, sorrowful. "Showed me."

"Our Lorne, not theirs," he reminded. "Lead. I'll keep track of their movements." He listened to the chatter. "They're on the bay, and levels two and three. Just where I would have gone. They want you unharmed. Me not so much. Go."

Moira looked round, getting her bearings. "We'll have to go down two levels, then up one to the lab, then across the next...okay, John?"

"Yes, Moira, go." Quickly they moved along the darkened hallways. Alarms blaring. Emergency lights flashing until soundly the alarm fell silent. The lights flooded on. "Crap. They fixed the ZPM. Keep moving. We're clear so far." They descended stairs. Crossed long hallways. Circled areas and avoided the transporters. John noted the signs of a battle. Laser marks on the walls. Bullet holes. One section was cordoned off with yellow tape. A mess of hanging wires and debris. Part of the wall still open to the night air and the ocean.

"Here, John, through here. In our Atlantis this is the secondary bio lab." Moira caught his hand, led him across rooms filled with vials and specimens. Tanks of water in which things swished. Moira stared round, at the density of experiments. The zoological specimens contained along one wall. Gently pushed by John she moved onto the secondary lab. Gasped seeing a veritable hodgepodge of Wraith parts scattered about like so much garbage. They reached a flight of stairs and began to descend.

"This is a short cut?" he asked, shaking his head. "I've never seen this part of the city before."

She smiled briefly. "It is for me, John. We lost a bird once and discovered this route. Here. The bay's over there. Under us." She pointed.

John nodded, moved ahead of her. "Okay. Jumper bay. There's our ship. Wow...those ships are strange. Like a hybrid of ours and the Wraith...wait a sec! Is that even possible? Look at the–"

"John! Focus!" she scolded, taking his arm.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Okay, I know they're there because I would have put them in place. Just waiting for us to fall into their hands. The Jumper is our obvious target. Damn."

"They won't shoot me. I'll go first. You stay close. We run to the Jumper, close it tight."

He considered. "I don't like it, but okay. I'll lay strafing fire to cover us. Moira..." he hesitated.

She squeezed his arm. "John, we'll make it," she assured. "You can out think yourself, right?"

"Hmm...I can out think him, maybe..." he corrected. "Go."

Moira descended the stairs. Paused in the shadows as John came up behind her. "On three?"

"How about two. I don't like this city. One. Two." He ran ahead of her, shooting wildly. Deliberately hitting lights, ships, the wall. Creating a confusion of debris and sparks as the men hiding in wait scattered, startled. Buying them a few precious moments before they returned fire. Moira ran behind him, on his heels. Zig zagging as he did, trying to block him from any retaliatory gunfire.

"Don't shoot! Do not engage!" Sheppard shouted.

One stray bullet pinged, nearly hitting her but she ran on, nearly pushing John. They reached the Jumper. Men were rushing after them, on their heels. Moira pushed John into the opened hatch, almost slamming him off his feet. A force field glimmered blue. The static charge flung her back and she stumbled on the floor, nearly fell off the ramp. Ran back but the blue field blocked her.

"John!"

John caught himself before he fell. Propelled by his own momentum and Moira's push he was halfway to the cockpit, nearly slammed into a startled McKay. Before he could register his surprise he heard the hiss of electrical current. Whirled and ran back to find a blue force field blocking entrance to the ship. Blocking Moira who stood on the other side of it. He hit it with his fist. It shimmered, but remained in place. "Fuck! Moira!" He glanced over his shoulder. "McKay!"

"I''m sorry, John," McKay sighed. "It's out of my hands now."

Moira whirled as the sounds of boots chasing her abruptly stopped. A lone pair of footsteps was heading for her. She stared at the marines all standing in strict attention. Sheppard advanced. An angry but amused expression on his face. She turned back to the force field, to John trapped on the other side of it. In the ship. "John!"

"Moira! I can try to–"

"No! Go! Get out of here! I'll give you time to get back to me but go now!"

"Moira? No! No, I won't leave you!" John declared, seeing the advancing form of his darker self approaching her. The smug expression. Realized he had fallen into the trap perfectly. Berated himself.

"You have to go! Now!" She touched the force field, felt the sizzle of static on her palm. He touched it, could not feel her hand through it. "Go, please!"

"Moira...I am impressed. And disappointed," Sheppard noted as he neared her.

"Go," she said softly, gaze locked with John's. She turned, headed down the ramp. Stepped off it and glared at the colonel. "What did you expect? I don't belong here!"

"You do. You're even better than her. You seem to know ways around the city that I don't. I hadn't counted on that. But him...I knew exactly what he'd do. Where he'd go. So predictable."

He smiled. Pulled her back suddenly as the force field shifted, fell. The ramp lifted. Closed. The ship powered up and rose steadily. "What the...McKay! Not yet, damn it!" He watched the ship rise higher, higher, shimmer with a shield even as gunfire strafed along it. The ship zoomed up the hatchway, now open. Flew out of sight into the sky.

Moira saw her change. As Sheppard freed her she whirled. Ran past the marines, swinging the modified Glock with her.

"Sir?" Reynolds asked.

"He left you...he actually..." Sheppard whirled. Swore. But smiled. "Track her. Find her. She can't go far. But not a hair on her head is to be out of place or there will be hell to pay! Understood!"

"Yes, sir!" the men chorused. Marched from the bay.

"When you corner her, call me. And track that ship!"


	5. Chapter 5

Parallel Evolution5

John flew the Jumper. Swerving in an arc over the city. Noting the structural damage as he zoomed over it. He dropped the shields, initialized the cloaking device. "Shit! McKay, where?"

"Huh? Try the mainland!" McKay stumbled into the co-pilot's seat. "I'm sorry, John! I had no control over this, I swear! What the hell are you doing? I can get you back through the anomaly. In fact those are my orders. I warned you that he'd never let her go!"

"Shut up! I'm going back for her! Tell me about those ships!" John brought the HUD to view. Scanning the mainland. Found several outposts. Weapon stations. Swore to himself.

"You'll never make it! He knows you'll come back for her, doesn't he? Face it, John. You may as well head for the anomaly. I think I can get you back to your own Atlantis. These calculations are very complicated but precise."

"Good. But first tell me about those ships. You know, the ones on our tail." He saw three blips on the screen following their trajectory. Swerved again and dropped towards the mainland.

"What?" McKay eyed the readings. "Oh oh."

"Oh oh? They can't see us, right? Right?"

"They can track us, even cloaked. I devised an interface with the Wraith sensors. Our ships can read any kind of energy signature, project any trajectory, even from a cloaked ship."

"Great, that's just great," John muttered. "An interface?"

"Yes. Quite ingenious if I do say so myself," McKay boasted. "Our ships now are true hybrids of Jumpers and Darts. Only an ATA gene carrier can fly them, and access all of the controls. They cloak, respond to the pilot's thoughts. Can even cull like a Wraith dart, but with an Asgard's beam built-in sensory device to re-materialize the subject instead of storing them indefinitely in the device like the–"

"Whatever. We need one." John dipped lower. The Jumper skimmed the tops of the trees. He zoomed, swerved violently and shot upwards, avoiding the pursuing ships for a moment.

"What? Oh, right, we'll just ask one of those pilots to kindly lend us–"

"No, I'm taking one down! Strap in!"

"You? How?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet. I can out fly anyone, except me. And trust me, I'm not, I mean he's not here. Where are they vulnerable? Rodney! Where?"

McKay considered. "The hull. Engine lines at the wings, under the modified drive pods. You can disable them there...but you have to get close enough for a direct hit and to slip in under their shields. What are you thinking?"

"You'll see. Hold on. Time to flush them out."

John flew back over the water. Juking wildly to avoid the strange missiles heading for him. Hitting the shield and jolting the ship. Draining the ship of energy with every hit. He dove down, as if intending to submerge the ship. One of the pursuers got there ahead of him, dove into the waters smoothly. John fired drones, knocking the ship sideways as it submerged.

Another hit and the Jumper rocked. "Shields down to forty percent!" McKay warned, holding onto his seat tightly. "Two more to go!"

John flashed a grin. "You mean one. We want that last one. Hold on!" He reversed, shooting backwards and spinning. The two ships following flew over him, began to turn to intercept. He fired darts at the one. Felt a wave of satisfaction as its shield glimmered, fell. As the drive pod sparked and fizzed. The ship flew in circles over the water. He veered towards the mainland again, the other ship in hot pursuit. "Are those gunnery stations active?"

"Yes, but not manned. Automated. They won't respond to your ship, though!" McKay shook his head. "I'm glad I didn't have a big dinner before this trip!"

"You and me both. Hold on." John veered again. A hit sent the Jumper spiraling down towards the trees. "Okay, baby, hold it together. Time to play dead." John flew in a juking spiral, as if he had lost control. Lowered the ship to the mainland. Trees scraped under the hull. Screeching as the leaves were incinerated by the explosions of energy fields. He landed the ship with a thud in a small clearing. Powered down slowly, as if the systems were drained. "Okay, here he comes."

John's hands hovered on the controls. He waited. Waited. Watched the readings as the ship came closer. Closer. Hovered over him.

McKay was staring up through the viewport as the hull of the ship descending upon them. "You better do something now. He'll just initiate the beam and pull us out of here without having to land. John? John, I said to–"

"All in good time, Rodney. Ah." John concentrated. Fired a drone to skitter across the drive pod. Explosions marred the ship, sent it rocking side to side like a toy. Before it veered a few feet away and dropped to the ground in a clumsy landing. Sparks ignited in the darkness.

John stood. Grabbed his P90. Glanced at McKay, uncertain. "Get up. You're coming with me to commandeer that ship. Come on!"

"All right, all right," McKay grumbled. "I will help you, John, despite the fact that I think this whole idea is doomed."

John opened the hatch. Stepped down the ramp. Whirled suddenly and grabbed McKay, held him at gunpoint. "Play along," he growled, advancing as a man in a black uniform strode towards him, gun raised. Stopped. "I'll kill him! I swear I'll kill him. Now drop the weapon!"

"I have orders to take you back to Atlantis! Drop the weapon!"

John neared slowly. The voice recognizable. He pressed the nuzzle of his gun under McKay's throat. "No. You drop yours or I will kill him. He's not my version of McKay so I really don't give a shit whether he lives or dies. But I bet Sheppard does. So...your call..Bates," John identified the man glaring at him.

Bates hesitated. Slowly lowered the weapon. Dropped it to the ground. "It's only a matter of time before the others find you and–"

John yanked the Wraith pistol from McKay's holster. Shoved the other man aside and shot. Bates fell to the ground in a crackle of blue energy. "I know, so there's no time to chat. McKay! The ship! McKay!" John swore, but then saw the physicist running for the hybrid vehicle. John sprinted after him, neatly jumping over the unconscious Bates. He rushed into the ship, gun raised and ready to fire. "Stop!"

"Put that down, would you?" McKay snapped, hands flying at the controls. "I'm seeing if I can fix the damage. You can't fly this without a working engine, now can you? It will take me a few moments to access the systems." A data screen scrolled information.

John hesitated, still uncertain. Slowly he lowered the weapon. "So you will help me? Even though you think this is a fool's errand?"

"Yes, John, I will. Even though I think if we did keep Moira here it would alter our Sheppard and change him back towards what he once was. More like you. But she doesn't belong here. She belongs in her own reality as you do. So I will help you. I don't want you to go through that loss...not again."

John stared at his friend as he feverishly worked on the systems. Flipped open a panel to reveal Ancient crystals and Wraith tentacles intertwined. "Oh. Thanks, Rodney." This unexpected compassion startled John. He watched the scientist work. "How does the–"

"It can repair itself, to a point. Just enough to make her flyable. Come here and I'll show you how to operate the systems."

John neared, holstered the gun. "Thanks, Rodney...I..."

McKay glanced at him, smiled. "You would do the same for me. Now pay attention."

*************************************************************************

Moira paused, catching her breath. She fired the strange gun. The burst of energy hit the walls, the floor. The bursts separating into several blooms of light that hit everything but the men. Buying John more time. But the net was closing. Marines were tracking her, herding her to a dead end. She heard a man's voice, frantic.

"Sir, sir! She's firing! Shall we engage?"

"Negative," came Sheppard's voice over the comm. "Not a hair out of place, major! Pin her in Section C. I'm on my way."

"Shit!" Moira looked round, having no idea where she was. Had been blindly running, evading capture. She ran down another hallway, froze as a line of men headed for her. She ran back the other way, froze. More soldiers. She stood. Held the gun. Fired at the walls. Laser beams splattered the plaster, the metalwork. Sparks flew. The soldiers raised their guns but did not return fire. Moira looked at both groups closing in on her. "Just let me pass! Okay? You heard the colonel. You can't shoot me, or touch me!" She slowly edged her way down the hallway, her back pressed to the wall. "Just let me pass! Or I will shoot you! There's nothing you can do!"

"Hold position, Reynolds," said one. "We need to keep her pinned down in this sector."

"No, you don't!" she argued. "I will shoot you if I have to! Now move aside! You can't hurt me but I will hurt you! Move!" She glared. Shot.

A marine exclaimed as a laser winged him. Fell as another was hit.

"Son of a....fall back! Fall back!" Reynolds ordered.

"Now move! I will shoot!" Moira warned. Made her way down the hallway. One group of men stepping backwards as she herded them. The other behind her, keeping a safe distance. "Stay there! You let me through or I will shoot you!" She saw them straighten suddenly. Cursed inwardly. Froze.

Sheppard smiled as he strolled towards her. "You shot my man, Moira," he accused. Voice full of amusement.

"Let me go, colonel! I will shoot!" she threatened, gun pointed at him.

He met her gaze as he neared. Raised a brow. "You won't shoot me. Will you?"

Moira's finger hovered on the trigger. Hovered. She bit her lower lip. So like John it was heartrending. But not him. She sighed, lowered the weapon. "You're right. I...I can't..."

Sheppard took the gun from her. "Get Franks to medical. With me, Moira." He led her to a transporter. Led her to his room. Grip firm on her arm.

Moira kept silent. Stared at the panel that had been hastily repaired. As good as new as Sheppard typed in the code. She sighed. Once in the room she moved to the window. Stared out at the night. Frustrated. Worried. Wondered if John was all right. Where he was.

"Did he leave you?" Sheppard asked. "I mean, did he really leave you? Cut his losses and return to his Atlantis? Or is this some kind of feint?"

Moira was silent. Trying to think. Trying to plot. She touched the window pane. Pictured the parting. The force field between them. A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She turned. Stared at the man who was not John. But was. "You don't know?"

"I'm not sure..." he admitted. Raised a brow. "I'm not used to having to out think myself."

"You were stupid, colonel. He's got McKay. And you can't run this city without McKay. You were stupid enough to let McKay become a hostage. For what? For me? I'm worthless. I'm nothing next to McKay. You aren't my John at all," she scoffed, deliberately trying to antagonize him. "He's smarter, quicker, and will have you running in circles before this is done!" She saw the tide of anger in his brilliant green eyes. The hand being raised to strike her. Braced herself, almost in anticipation of the blow.

Sheppard's hand was still raised but the anger smoldered. Smoldered into a more sensual regard. "Clever, Moira. You almost..." He touched her cheek. Her jaw. Her throat. "Don't provoke me, honey. I would never hurt you, but I won't tolerate that smart tongue of yours."

She swallowed. His raspy voice lowering. Grazing along her skin, her senses. "He does. And he would never even think to strike me. You are so not him–"

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself, Moira?" he asked. He pulled her across the room, into his arms. Into a lengthy kiss. Forceful yet yearning. "I am him, damn it! Accept it. He will never breach the city. Moira..." He kissed her again, gently now. A whisper of his lips on hers. He moved her onto the bed. "I want you, Moira. I want to feel you. Every inch of you. I want to be inside you," he intoned against her skin.

Moira squirmed but he pinned her down with his weight. Body sliding over hers as he kissed her. Shoved her shirt up, up. "Colonel...you can't...please...I can't..."

"You can give me absolution, Moira. I must have you completely, utterly. Give yourself to me. I need you. You can't imagine how much I need you, Moira. How much I desire you, long for you. You love me, Moira," he insisted. Hands wandering but not as frantically, not as roughly as earlier. "How do you know? You said you knew how I felt, to lose you...how?"

She colored, shifting under him, feeling tears. "She...she never told you...about, about her past?"

"No...why? Moira? No..." he stared. Caressed her cheek. "How could you possibly know what it's like for me. To have lost you. If I had only found her sooner, if I had only kept her here in the city, if I hadn't have found her too late! Too late, Moira, and then to ask me to..to...you cannot possibly know...unless, unless...you...there was someone in your past? You caused–"

Moira couldn't bear his accuracy. His pain. His guilt. Finding an echoing answer in her own. She pulled him closer, kissing him. Dissolving his realizations, preventing her answers in kiss after kiss. Torn because it was still John, somehow. Still the man she loved. Just twisted by tragedy, by war. Oddly she felt closer to him with this shared understanding of a horrible loss.

Sheppard moved against her, becoming more like her John as she acquiesced. His kisses roamed, hands caressing.

Moira tried to stop her reactions. Uncertain. Unsure. Guilty but tempted. Wanting to comfort him as his need cried out for her. The darkness hovering to swallow them both. Linking them in a way she had never anticipated. Yet she also knew this was an excellent distraction to buy time for her John. The one who was coming back for her. Would buy him plenty of time. She blinked back tears, forcing her emotions aside. "John..."

"Moira, you're so beautiful...so beautiful..." he murmured into her ear. He unzipped her pants. Hands sliding gently to make her gasp, to make her murmur. "So lush. I'd forgotten how very sweet your center is, honey." His fingers plied, probed.

Moira colored but stroked his arm, his chest as he lifted to pull at her clothes. "Don't...don't hurt me, colonel," she whispered.

He looked at her, smiled. A smile that made her heart skip, her emotions melt. "I won't hurt you, Moira. Ever. I love you." He pulled off her pants, her panties. Undid his pants as his gaze wandered over her. He paused, touched her waist. "She had so many scars, Moira. You cannot even imagine...all the cuts..." His fingers slid up to her breasts, under the bra. "I could have prevented each and every one! I could have–"

"Ssh!" she wooed, hearing the emotion, the genuine guilt in his voice. She guided his face to hers to kiss him. To savor the fullness of his lips, his mouth. Tasting like her John, yet not.

He buried his face in her hair. Body tensing on hers. "I never wanted to kill her! I never wanted that!" he confessed, voice low, breaking over the emotion. "Take it from me, Moira, take it all from me, please! I can't bear another loss, another loss because of me! My own fault! From the first to now I just can't..."

Moira kissed him, tears filling her eyes, his anguish so echoing her own it jolted her. "John, John, you must let it go! You must! Let it go, John, let it go..." she whispered against his skin, guiding him even as he entered her. A careful thrust that made her moan, whimper. He groaned, thrusting deeper now. His tongue sliding over her mouth, her tears with each successive thrust. Driven by desire, by pure animal need. By pure human need to be absolved. To be forgiven.

Sheppard shuddered. Driving into her a few more times before all the tension, all the suffocating guilt dissolved into spasms of pleasure. Wave after wave. He heard Moira moan, trying not to call out, not to cry out. Soft sounds escaping her lips. Felt her body tensing, releasing under his. He groaned loudly, thrust once more and fell upon her. The release swift but wild. He caught his breath. Kissed her, tasting tears. His or hers he couldn't tell. He rolled off her. "Moira..."

Moira tried to calm her breathing. Her racing heart. Her wild emotions surging. Her body's physical satisfaction. Release. She scrambled to sit. To pull on her panties, her pants. Her hands trembled. A maelstrom of emotion made her curl up at the edge of the bed. Silent sobs vying with anger. Guilt vying with cold assessment. A hand on her arm made her nearly jump, nearly scream.

"Moira...thank you," Sheppard rasped. His fingers caressing her arm before they slipped off her.

Moira stared at the wall. Silent. Biting her lower lip and wondering where the hell John was.

*************************************************************************

John secured the last hold, stood back and surveyed his handiwork.

"Is this really necessary, John?" McKay asked. The scientist was tied to the seat in the Jumper. Bound at the wrists and the ankles. His expression of ire all too familiar.

"Sorry. But yes. I'm not quite sure I can trust you," John informed. "And I still need you to get us back to our Atlantis."

McKay sighed, shook his head. "I said I will help you and I will. Aren't we friends in your reality, John? That other version of me...he must be quite the–"

"He is. And yes, we are friends. Still..." John shrugged. "I'll be back." He exited the ship, shut the hatch. Darted to the hybrid vehicle. He closed the hatch and strapped into the pilot's seat. The console hummed at his barest touch. Lifted even as he formed the thought. "Sweet," he commented, a momentary smile of pure boyish delight on his face. Which instantly disappeared as he thought of Moira. Wondered how she was. What she was enduring. Could only imagine but refused the thoughts.

He flew the ship smoothly into the air. Cloaked it and monitored any comm chatter with a touch of a button. A few ships were in the vicinity but looking in the wrong place. He smiled at that. He headed for the city. Flew over the waters. The sun was rising. The amber glow shed beams along the ocean. Turning the surface into green glass. Throwing the city spires into shadows.

He lazily circled. Brought up a readout of the city. Locating his objective with a thought. He neared, cruising altitude now, dipping low under any sensors. He tapped his earpiece. Licked his lips as engaged a further stealth mode. The ship grew dark. Silent. Nearly inert but still moving. Responding not only to his thoughts, his touches, but to any scans from Atlantis. "Baby," John said quietly. Waited. Tensing at the silence. He waited. Waited. "Baby?" he tried again.

***********************************************************************

Moira had stumbled into the bathroom. Cleaned up with determined efficiency. She fixed her pants, froze hearing a muffled voice. Coming from her pocket. She stepped out of the bathroom. Sheppard was sprawled on the bed, snoring. Moira grabbed the earpiece from her pocket, slid in over her ear. Waited. Waited.

"Baby, copy?" John asked again.

"Sweetie, copy?" Moira stammered nervously. Staring at the bed. Felt tears.

John nearly sagged with relief in his chair. "Baby, what's your twenty?" he asked.

"Sweetie. His room." She had almost said yours and had to catch herself.

"Figures. You okay?" He heard the quaver in her voice. The sorrow. Gut clenching as he could only imagine the worst. He flew the ship towards the city tower where she was.

"Yes, John," she lied. As far from okay as she could be but forcing it all down.

"Window, Moira."

She moved to the window, looked out. Sunrise was a spray of gold and lilac. The ocean glittered brightly beneath her. "John?"

"Ledge."

"What?"

"Can you get through to stand on the ledge?" he repeated, flying closer. Circling now like a hawk honing in on its prey.

"What?" She peered. "I think so. It's too small, too narrow, though."

"I just need you on the ledge, Moira. Trust me."

"John, how...where are you?" She stared at the sky. Did not see the Jumper. "I don't..." She froze, glanced over her shoulder. Sheppard was awakening. Reaching for her. "John..."

He heard her note of desperation. "Now, Moira. Get on the ledge. Trust me."

"Moira?" Sheppard asked, eyes opening.

Moira opened the window. Stepped out through the grating. Perched on the ledge. Her toes dangled over it. A breeze hit her and blew her hair in all directions. "Okay, John."

"Moira, hold position. I see you." John angled the ship, fingers gliding over the controls as McKay had shown him.

"Moira! Moira, no!" Sheppard exclaimed, rushing to the window.

Moira turned, slipped. Fell as both Johns called her name. Fell and fell, limbs flailing wildly. Wind rushing by her, taking her voice away. The spires of the city rushed past her. She nearly hit a balcony as the wind tossed her like a doll. Gravity yanking her down, down towards the sparkling ocean. Falling endlessly, almost flying.

The wind took her breath. Squeezing the oxygen from her lungs.. She could smell the ocean as it rushed up to greet her. To submerge her in its watery depths, and part of her almost welcomed the cold embrace.


	6. Chapter 6

Parallel Evolution6

Moira slammed into a hard surface. Body jolted by the violence. But it wasn't the ocean. She wasn't wet, wasn't drowning. She found herself sprawled on her back on the floor of a ship. A strange ship that was vibrating under her.

John glanced over his shoulder. "Moira! Moira, are you okay?"

"John?" she squeaked, finding her voice. She sat, rolled as the ship veered. "What the hell is this?" She touched a wall. "This is Wraith!" she exclaimed, drawing back from the weird living fibers lining the walls.

"A hybrid," he answered calmly. Voice not betraying his hammering heart, his relief that the culling beam had worked. "Pretty cool, huh? It's a Dart and Jumper hybrid. What would you call it? A Jart? A Dumper? Maybe not that one. We can think of a name later. I wish we could take this baby back to Atlantis. Sit easy. We're going to get our own ship." He found himself uncharacteristically rambling to cover his emotions.

Moira clung to the wall, gaining her footing. But the ride was smoother now. The ship humming like a contented cat under John's control. "How...how...where..."

"McKay. This version is much nicer. Weird, isn't it? We need to move fast. Crap! He's raising the alarm. We have to switch ships now! Hold on, Moira!" John accelerated, curving around the city and then zooming over the ocean. Towards the mainland. His hands flew over the controls. Tracking any pursuing ships. Monitoring the comm chatter. Targeting the Jumper hidden on the far side of the mainland. "Moira, are you okay?" he repeated.

Moira had managed to slide into a back seat. Held onto the cushions although the ride was still smooth. She stared at the back of his head. Dark hair disordered. The nape of his neck. The spread of his shoulders enfolded in the black t-shirt. Strong arms bent as he worked the controls.

He glanced back at her. Handsome face full of concern. Brows furrowed. Brilliant green eyes full of warmth. The shadow of stubble lining his strong jaw, making him resemble the colonel eve more. She nodded. Couldn't find her voice at the moment.

John stared at her, then turned back to the controls. To the viewport rapidly filling with the mainland. The ship skimmed over the trees. He mused over her disordered appearance. Hair spilling all around her, unkempt. Clothes rumpled by the fall off the ledge. Her face pale until he had met her gaze and she had blushed. Her brown eyes too wide. Full of worry. Of sorrow.

Tears glinted. He forced it all aside. "Here we are, but they're closing in on us."

John smoothly landed the ship. Leapt out of the seat and headed for the hatch. It opened silently at his touch. "Moira, quickly." He caught her hand, led her out of the ship to the more familiar Jumper parked nearby. He opened the hatch. "Go!" Nearly shoved her in, past a tied-up McKay.

Moira paused, stared. "Rodney?"

"Moira? It is you...it really is..."

"No. My Moira. Not yours. Not his." John drew his knife, cut through the bonds, not having the time to untie them. "Sorry, Rodney. I didn't quite trust you. Take the other ship. If you could lead them away from us that would be helpful."

McKay nodded, rubbed his wrists as he stood. "I'll try, but Sheppard won't be fooled for long. The nav computer's already got the coordinates for the anomaly. The shield should trigger it like before, but you won't have a lot of time. Go quickly, John."

John nodded. Shook the other man's hand. "Thanks, Rodney." He watched the scientist run out to the other ship. John shut the hatch and ran to the pilot's seat, slid into it and powered the Jumper. "Hold on, Moira!" He ascended, cloaking the ship and illuminating the HUD to find his bearings. And his pursuers. As the hybrid vehicle flew one way John flew the other. "They can still track us cloaked but we will outmaneuver them. I think."

"You think!" She fell against the wall, clung as the Jumper veered sharply. Practically on its side in the deep turn. "John!"

"Busy, sweetheart," he called, sounding bored. He took the ship into a dive. Nearly clipping the trees before shooting upwards across an open plain. The ocean glimmered in the rising sunlight. Like a blue-green jewel capped with white waves. He tapped the second earpiece. "Here they come. Three bogeys coming in hot." He risked a glance over his shoulder. "Moira! Get your pert little ass up here, now!" He looked back out the viewport. "Shit. Closing on our tail. Hold on tight!"

Moira had to briefly smile at the familiar comment. "John!" She made her way to the front of the ship, trying not to fall. "Why don't you shield the–" A hit rocked the vehicle. Sent her rushing forward.

"Can't, Moira. We need the shield at full power when we hit the water," he explained.

"Can you out fly them?" she asked, catching herself and clinging to the seat behind him.

"Yes," he replied. "As long as he's not one of them. Then I'm not so sure."

"Damn it, John, slow down for a–" Another hit sent her lurching sideways, then forward. She flew, fell face first into his lap.

John caught her before she slammed into the controls. He smirked. "As much as I want you like this, baby, now is not the time. I'm kind of busy here."

She straightened, glared, but a smile tugged. She settled into the co-pilot's seat as he veered downwards yet again. Juking hectically so the other ships could not get a steady bearing on them. "Hilarious, John! Where are you going?"

"Time for cat and mouse. Strap in." He glanced at her, removed the earpiece and slid it into the comm unit on the console. "This is Colonel Sheppard! Your–"

"No." At his look she shook her head, realizing his intentions. "Gruffer. Angrier. Like that last bottle of beer back there was broken."

"There's a bottle of beer?" He glanced behind him.

"John! Focus! Beer broken!"

He smiled, cleared his throat. Altered his tone. "This is Colonel Sheppard!" He paused, glanced to her. She nodded. "Break off pursuit! Repeat, break off pursuit! Return to the city!" He circled, then flew towards the water. "That seems to have bought us a little time." Another hit. The ship lurched, rattled. An alarm rang. Lights flashed on the console. "Or not."

"Brilliant, John," she groused. "First you can't out think yourself, now you can't out fly yourself? What next?"

"Hey! I'm making this up as I go along!"

"This is Colonel Sheppard!" came the colonel's rasping voice over the console. "Engage that ship! Disable!"

Moira jerked at the voice. Stared at the console as if Sheppard would emerge from it. A welter of emotion hit her. Played across her face. John looked at her. Swore to himself.

Another hit sent them downwards, tipping them awkwardly until John brought the ship back under control. "Get me that beer, would you, Moira?"

"What? John, focus!" she scolded, his suggestion breaking her out of her reverie.

"Hey! Colonel! I've got Moira on board! If you strike me down you strike her down! Copy? Or do you plan to kill her like you killed yours?" He glanced at Moira, hearing her involuntary gasp.

Another hit. The drive pod sparked. Lights dimmed. Power hiccuped. Then systems came back online. "Crap. He's good. Too damn good. Colonel, do you copy? If you–"

"You forget our capabilities, John," the colonel's voice rasped eerily. "Once I can beam Moira out of there I can shoot you down without any repercussions."

"Crap..." John replied. "Seems I can't even outargue myself today." He slowed suddenly. Reversed. The three ships were ahead of him now. He fired. Hit the two still startled by the maneuver but the third flipped in a somersault and veered behind them. Chased them again.

Moira shook her head. "We'll never make it," she dourly noted. "Look, John...land."

"Land? Are you crazy, Moira? Hell no!"

"It's your only option! Land! Would you prefer being shot down! The colonel doesn't care what happens to you! I do! I can convince him to send you back through the anomaly if you–"

"No! You are not staying here! I won't leave you! Why do we keep having to have this conversation, damn it! We'll make it, Moira. Have some faith. I can out fly him."

"You said you couldn't! John, please–"

"I was being modest. Why? Do you want to stay?" he asked suddenly, glancing at her.

"No, I...I don't want you shot down! Or worse! I–"

"Screw this!" He heard a slight hesitation. It made him angry. Jealous, as strange as that was. He veered wildly, reversed to almost hit the other ship. Saw the startled glare of his darker self in the cockpit before the hybrid ship took evasive maneuvers. "Hang on!" He increased power but the ship rattled. Jerked. "Crap! Hold on!" He tried again.

"Wait!" Moira braced herself, leaned to the comm. "Colonel Sheppard...John, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry," she glanced at John, felt tears and looked at the console. "I'm so sorry. I can't be her, I can't! I'm not her! Forgive me, please! Let us go. You have to let go, John."

John was staring at her. Her fragile sorrow tore at him. Also made him angry. "Here we go." He took a deep breath, released it. "We'll be at our most vulnerable here. Dropping the cloak. Engaging the shield. Cross your fingers, Moira." His voice was subdued. "Power output at forty...fifty...eighty...ninety...good enough."

The Jumper hit the water. Plunged with a shudder into the ocean depths. A blanket of blue green water enveloped them. John slowed the descent, initializing the coordinates McKay had programmed. He glanced at Moira. She was silent. Still. Staring at nothing. Tears glimmered in her brown eyes. Her expression full of guilt, misery. Weariness.

John wordlessly brought the HUD to view. "Locating position. About three point two marks starboard. Bottom." He skimmed the ocean floor, slowing. Slowing. "Right there. McKay pinpointed the position of the anomaly. We should be able to trigger it like last time." He landed the ship. It rocked gently. He stood and moved to the back. Opened a panel. Fiddled with the crystals. "Moira. Moira, I need your help. Secondary systems are offline."

Moira woke from her tangled storm of emotion. She stood. Moved to him.

He stepped back, gestured. "Hold these, here." She stepped in front of him, took the two crystalline threads. Held them together. "Just so, yes." He stepped closer, arms around her as he adjusted the lines. Tapped on the keyboard. "One drive pod is almost shot but it should hold. We need to draw nearly all power to this system. It has to be strong enough to trigger the anomaly like we did the first time."

"John..." Moira whispered. His voice low, gentle. His warm breath caressing her cheek. His arms around her but not touching her. She could feel his body right behind her. Could feel the warmth, the solid surety.

"Just so, Moira." He typed in commands, checked the scrolling data. Fingers itching to touch her. A perfume scent lingered on her skin. "Extending the shield. Only a little bit. We should be close enough to trigger the lights. McKay said I blundered into some random polarity field with the shielding, created an electric transference. I don't know half of what he said. But I guess I inadvertently triggered a temporal field. I'm always blundering into this stuff, aren't I?"

She briefly smiled. She fought the wave of emotion threatening to inundate her. Trembled with the effort. "Was...was McKay like our McKay then?"

"Yeah...sort of. I guess McKay is McKay in any universe. But this one was nicer. Had more compassion. That really threw me."

"He...he was more like you...in the end..." she said.

He stepped closer, barely hearing her words. It took a minute she was speaking about Sheppard and not McKay. His body brushed against hers. His lips brushed her cheek. "Moira..."

She flinched. But leaned back against him. "I...I can't..."

"Let it go."

"The, the threads?"

"Everything," he intoned, kissing her softly.

Moira's control broke. She freed the threads, turned to him. Tears filled her eyes. Wordlessly she moved into his arms. Clinging. Clutching. Burying herself against his strength, his warmth. The scent of him. Her John. So like the other, yet not. Shaking with silent sobs.

John's arms enfolded her. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her. Her need. Her sorrow. Feeling he was drowning in her sorrow, in all of that love for him, for his alternate self. Felt trapped by it, swamped by it. Part of him wanted to free her, to push her aside. But he held her tightly, the other part unwilling to let her go. "Moira, my Moira. You are safe now. I promise. You are safe."

"I...I feel like I'm made of glass. Like I'm going to break, to shatter like glass into a million pieces," she stammered. "John, John..." He was her strength, her lifeline and she was clinging to him desperately. Even while part of her felt she should have stayed behind. Stayed with the darker Sheppard. The one she had tried to heal however she could.

"Then I'll put the pieces back together, sweetheart. One by one. As long as it takes," he assured. Kissed her brow. Stroked her back, her messy hair.

"I...I couldn't...I tried to help him...you...him...I tried...I know what's he going through, the, the guilt, the..."

"You did. You saved us, Moira. But he wasn't me. Not your John. I'm here with you now."

"I...I can't...I can't help it...maybe I should have stayed to help him. I feel so guilty..." she said in a small voice.

"No," he sternly argued. "You don't belong there. You belong here, with me. I need you here with me, Moira. My Moira." He pushed aside his own doubts. Couldn't imagine hurting her much less killing her for whatever reason. But part of him, the darkest parts of him could. To end her suffering. He shook the thoughts away. "Moira." He kissed her again, lifted her face to his. To slide his lips over hers. "Don't let your love for him tear you apart. Don't let your love for me be confused with him. I'm here. He's not. End of story."

"I...I'm sorry, John...I...." She wondered if he knew. If he guessed. If he would ever understand it if not condone it.

"Don't apologise, Moira. It's me, I know. A version of me but still me. Somehow. I know he's lurking in me, somewhere...I..." He freed her. "I hate this quantum physics shit. We should look for the lights." Uncomfortable he turned, moved to the front of the ship.

Moira stared after him. Could detect his anger despite his comfort, his assurances. His love vying with darker emotions. As if he almost resented her for loving him. She moved to sit next to him, to stare out the viewport. "Won't it be behind us?"

"Huh?" John had been locked in his own tumultuous thoughts. "Yeah. I mean, we can view it here. Visuals on here." He tapped a screen. A shimmer in the water. Blues and greens. Lights waving in the depths like sunlight. But no sunlight could penetrate this far down. "Is that it?"

"Huh? Oh...yes. I think so. Yes!"

The ship rocked slightly. "Okay, strap in. Here we go. I'll retract the shield and in we go." He withdrew the power. The extension faded. He turned the ship, guided it through the waves of lights. Colors. Reds now flaring. Just as quickly the lights were gone. "Was that it?"

"What did you want, John? It was very fast."

"Oh. When we break the surface I'll drop the shield, cloak, and head for Atlantis. We'll maintain radio silence. Maybe we can pick up some comm chatter." He began to ascend through the waters. Checking all systems and readings as his fingers stroked the controls.

"In case it's not our Atlantis?" she guessed.

"Bingo. Could you hand me that beer?" He met her gaze. "Seriously, Moira. Just a sip. I need it. You need it."

She leaned back and grabbed the stray beer. Handed it to him.

He waited, tapping the cap so the liquid would settle. He carefully opened it. Took a long sip, slurping the overflow before it escaped down the bottle. Tongue flicking along the narrow opening. "Ah..." He handed it to her. "Drink. You need it."

Moira had been watching, fascinated. The motions of his mouth, his tongue. He licked his lips, smiled briefly. Aware of her interest. She took a long sip, grimaced at the taste. Took another. Handed it back to him. He downed the rest. Quick, long swallows. "John?"

He tossed the empty bottle aside. "I'm fine. Here we go." The ship broke the surface. Water plumed around them. They rode the crest of an enormous wave that splashed back into the sea. John quickly dropped the shield and cloaked the ship. Invisible to sensors and sight the Jumper flew over the waters. Sunlight shone brightly, but the orb was beginning its descent. An orange glow stole across the waves. "There's Atlantis." John pointed in the distance were the city spires gleamed. "Just where we left it."

"So far so good," she commented. "Now what?"

"Now we wait. Listen in." He tapped the console. Silence. He flew towards the city. Dropped altitude. "Jumpers. Two of them. They look like ours."

"Anything?" came Rodney's irascible voice over the console.

"Nothing!" rejoined an equally irritated Evan Lorne. "We've searched this quadrant twice! The mainland is clear! That just leaves the ocean and that doesn't make any sense! If they had crashed we would have received an automated distress beacon!"

"Where the hell are they? Ships don't just disappear into thin air! Well, they do, of course, into hyperspace windows or into Stargates to dematerialize into matter streams but you know what I mean!" Rodney fumed. "I've scanned this entire sector four times! Unless they're at the bottom of the ocean but we would have had them on the–"

John smiled. "That is our McKay for sure. McKay!" he called, ending the radio silence between the ships. "Lorne! This is Sheppard." He dropped the cloak to reveal his ship hovering in front of the other two. "Hi." He waved.

"Colonel Sheppard! Thank God! Is Moira–" Evan exclaimed.

"She's here, major. We're fine." John glanced at Moira. She was staring at the two ships. "Lead us to Atlantis, major."

"John! What happened to you? Your ship's damaged!" Rodney noted.

"Yeah, I noticed," John remarked glibly. "It's flyable. And you'll fix it."

"Oh, here we go! You disappear without a trace for three days and just swan back to the city. Expect me to fix whatever has happened to your ship. Looks like you blew one of the drive pods! Where the hell have you been? Elizabeth was about to call for reinforcements from Earth to–"

"Rodney!" John interrupted. "Three days? It's been three days?" He glanced at Moira who met his gaze. Shrugged. "Damn...it's a long story. I'm starving. Let's go home."

"Starving? You're starving? I've been out here for three days trying to find you! I haven't had a decent meal in–"

"Rodney! I'm sorry to hear we inconvenienced you. Let's go home! Major, lead on!" John saw Moira's smile, slight relaxation. This was their Rodney indeed. Their Atlantis.

"This way, sir. I'll contact Weir and recall the other search teams. Good to have you back, sir. Moira."

"It's good to be back, major," John agreed. He flew the ship after them. The vehicle rocked a little, listing to one side. He glanced at Moira again. "Sweetheart? You okay?"

Moira nodded. "I just want to get home. This is home, right?"

"Yes, it is. Lucky for us McKay is nearly always the same in any universe." He paused. "Moira, when we land let me do the talking. All right?"

"Okay, John. I just want to go to my room for, for awhile..." Her voice was soft. But steady. Calm. But John could hear the tide of emotion underneath it.

"Anything you want, sweetheart."

The Jumper bay was crowded. Swarming with technicians. Marines. Mechanics. John landed as best he could. The ship jumped, rattled. Then was still. Sparks flew from the damaged drive pod, momentarily keeping people back from the vehicle.

John stood. He moved to the hatch, waited until Moira had joined him. "Stay behind me. Just in case, but I'm sure we're home." He opened the hatch. Stepped down the ramp, Moira on his heels. Familiar surroundings, familiar faces greeted him. The atmosphere of relaxed chaos was a balm compared to that other Atlantis and its strict military protocols. The grim faces of its marines. The heavy air of a city under duress.

"Rodney!" Moira burst out from behind John to engulf the startled physicist in a hug. "Thank you!"

"Wha...uh...uh..." Rodney stammered.

Moira moved to Evan. A wave of tears threatened. "Evan! Oh Evan!" She hugged him. "Thank God you're alive!" she muttered.

"Um, Moira, yes, as far as I know," Evan said, as surprised and bewildered as Rodney. "We were worried about you too." Puzzled he looked over at John, who shook his head. A warning not to ask the questions swarming in his head.

Moira freed him. "Sorry. I...it's been..." She turned to John, embarrassed. Upset.

"Go," he gently urged. She nodded, made her way quickly out of the bay.

"Sir? What happened to you two?" Evan asked, staring after her.

"More importantly where the hell did you go? Because I know you went somewhere. But how?"

Rodney inquired.

"John! Thank God! Where the hell have you been?" Elizabeth Weir demanded, marching towards him as stridently as a marine.

"We took an inadvertent side trip. I'll explain later. Can I please have something to eat first?"


	7. Chapter 7

Parallel Evolution7

Moira sat on her bed. In her room. Assured it was hers. No ghosts lingered. All of her things were here, in place, exactly as she had left them. Once confident she was really home she had run to the bathroom and promptly thrown up the meager meal left in her stomach from the other Atlantis. Then she had taken a long, long hot shower. Had ended up crumpled in the tub, weeping. Great, heaving sobs tearing from her body as her emotions demanded release.

Sorrow was wrenched from her. For her alternate self. That terrible, terrible fate that she had narrowly avoided. For that alternate reality, so dark, so grim. For that alternate John Sheppard. So wounded and harsh. Desperate and vulnerable. Guilt and love colliding in her. For what she had done with him to ease his pain, his loss. For leaving him.

Moira hid her face in her hands. Exhausted but unable to sleep. Miserable but calmer now that the torrent had been freed. She reclined, curling up into a little ball and stared at the wall. Thinking. Trying not to think.

**************************************************************************

John had eaten. Had managed to fob off Rodney and Elizabeth's persistent but well-meaning questions with vague answers. And obvious fatigue. He moved to his room at last. Stood in the center looking at it. Deriving a comfort from the familiar touches of his personality. His things. Exactly where he had left them. He showered. The hot water pounding sore muscles. Pounding away distracting worries for the moment. He shaved, erasing any resemblance to the colonel. He grabbed for a t-shirt, automatically selecting a black one. He frowned. Instead selected a blue one. Blue pants.

He sat on his bed. Worried. Brooding. Debated how much to reveal about that other Atlantis. How little to reveal. He ran a hand through his damp hair. Wondered about Moira. His febrile imagination had already pictured the worst. Knowing exactly what he would have done. Would have wanted from her. Would have needed from her. And Moira unable to resist. Or unwilling. Loving him that much, even an alternate version of himself. A darker version.

He swallowed. Sometimes felt he could drown in all of that love she had for him. All of that emotion, suffocating. And yet he reveled in it. Craved it, even, beyond the pleasures of sex. Intimacy. Trust. Discovery. There was so much he still wanted to do with her. But the emotion was cloying at times. He sighed, feelings all over the board. Thoughts tangled.

A knock at the door startled him. He stared. Scowled. Willed the intruder to go away.

"John?" Moira's voice. Soft. Hesitant.

John hesitated. Stood. Still hesitated.

Moira touched the door. Wondered if he was even there. She was about to leave when the door opened. They stared at each other for a silent moment. She took in his unease, his conflicted emotions chasing across his handsome face. He stared. Her red-rimmed eyes told of her sobbing. Her sorrow skimmed the depths of misery and guilt. Wordlessly he stepped aside, gestured for her to enter. His gaze roving over her loose hair, her gray t-shirt and pants.

Moira crossed the threshold. Froze in the middle of the room. Stared round. "I just need, I just need to see your room, please." The familiarity relaxed her. The touches of his personality everywhere.

"Of course, Moira." He closed the door. "To tell you the truth so did I. We're really back. In our Atlantis." He moved past her. Uncomfortable. Sat on the bed. Ran a hand carelessly through his hair, mussing it even more. "Moira...I don't know what to say."

"About what, John?" she asked, looking at him. His troubled expression.

John stared at the floor. His bare feet. His hands loosely clasped on his knees. "About what? Do I need to say it? Look, I, I can understand if you need some...distance. Distance from me. Hell, I need some distance from me...from him...from what I could become."

"No, John." She sat next to him, touched his hands. "You would never–"

"How do you know that, Moira?" he challenged. Met her gaze. Brilliant green eyes intense. "I don't know that. That dark side version of me is still me, right? Somewhere in here," he tapped his chest, "is that guy. I was that guy sort of...before we came to Atlantis. After...after..."

"No, John," she repeated. "Not you. Our histories may be the same, but not completely the same. Our choices are different. You are the same superficially, but not here." She touched his chest. "Not really."

"What happened, Moira? Did he hurt you? I could never hurt you, Moira, never! I would rather die than ever–"

"Don't! Don't ever say that!" she flared, withdrew her hand. Stood as if to leave but remained.

"Sorry. Tomorrow I'm going to have Rodney complete a full systems sweep of that area and then lock off that grid. No more exploration. Ever."

"Oh."

"Oh? You sound disappointed, Moira? Are you? Were you hoping to go back there? For God's sake, Moira, he killed you! Killed her! And here you are feeling what, compassion? How can you after learning that? How can you even begin to have feelings for him when I–"

"John!" She whirled, met his angry gaze as the words spilled out, unintended but necessary. "I don't want to go back there! But yes! Yes, of course I feel compassion! Of course part of me thinks I should have stayed with him! Do you want to know why?"

"Yes! Yes, I do, damn it!" John flared. His anger rising to the surface. An odd jealousy too.

"Because he's you!" she replied. "A different you! A scarier, but more wounded you! Don't you see? I don't know what darkness is in your past, John, and you don't know what is in mine, but he, he needed me! You can't imagine the loss he bears, the guilt! But I can! I can! Because I bear it too! And he needed me, needed me more than you probably ever will! So yes, I should have stayed with him, but instead I came back with you! Although maybe I should have stayed so what happened to him will never, never happen to you!"

He stared, absorbing her outburst. "So this is it, then. I see. Don't you think I've been thinking the same? That we should break up because then you'll be safe from me! From the darkness that is in me! Whatever darkness is in you, Moira, it is nothing. Nothing compared to mine! He killed her, Moira! You're right, I can't even imagine doing that! But a part of me can...imagine it. And that appalls me. Makes me sick. And I'll be damned if I ever hurt you, or worse."

Moira swallowed. Felt tears. "You won't, John. You would never hurt me." She sat next to him. Touched his hand, a shy gesture. A slight caress of her fingers on his. "The truth is, John...you are not him. And I...I couldn't bear to lose you. To be without you. John...please..."

She kissed him. A tender motion of her lips against his. Another kiss. Lips parting. Inviting. Her fingers trailing along his thigh.

John pulled her into an embrace. Mouth questing after hers. Tongue gliding in to taunt, to tease. His hands wandered boldly, sliding up under her shirt. To his surprise he encountered no bra, only bare flesh yielding to his touch. Her fingers were frantically plying at his pants and he drew back a little. The rush of desire, of arousal swift. Sure. "Moira? Are you sure, sweetheart?"

"Yes, John, please. I need to see...I need..." She tugged at his shirt. Obligingly he pulled it over his head, flung it to the floor. Moira's gaze devoured, studied. Her fingers ran along the smooth, lean flesh. No scars. No wounds. No bruises. Fingers sliding along his chest to tangle in his chest hair, to tug the dog tags hanging from a silver chain. "John..."

He raised a brow, curious, but refrained from asking."Your turn, baby." He kissed her, sat back to watch. Licked his lips.

Moira hesitated. Finally met his expectant gaze. "He, he said her body was scarred. Cut. Cut up and, and sliced..."

His gaze narrowed. "But yours is not." His voice was quiet, desire momentarily dampened. Until she kissed him. Lifted her shirt off and dropped it to the floor. Her hair swirled down to her bare breasts. John smiled. Drew her into another kiss. "Moira, are you sure, sweetheart?" he repeated. Fingers sliding down to cup, to caress.

"Yes, sweetie, now get your fucking pants off, would you?" she snapped, standing to remove hers. To kick off her shoes. John smirked at her words, her tone. At the incongruity. One moment they were on the verge of breaking up, the next on the verge of having sex. He stood, pulled off his pants, his boxers shorts. Gaze locked on her bare back, her bare rear as she wiggled out of the clothing.

"Pert little ass," he muttered happily. "Moira, you have no idea how much I want this."

Moira turned, flung herself into his arms. A fierce desperation coloring every kiss. Every caress. Passionately entangled with her John fell back onto the bed, scooted up towards the pillows and rolled so she was beneath him. John gave himself over to it, needing it as much as she did. He trailed kisses along her throat, nibbled her earlobe until she murmured. Whimpered as she squirmed under his body. Inviting. Demanding. He slid down, mouth traveling as his hands did.

Moira arched into him, murmuring as his mouth wandered down to her breasts. Tongue teasing. Lips sucking, pulling. The hard length of him shoving against her. So close. "John," she whispered, fingers tangling in his hair. Her thighs parting as her body flooded with arousal. The eerie similarity to that other Sheppard made her shiver but she took a deep breath, released it.

John slid lower. To the scar on her side. Fingers plying her thighs now. Tense with need. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asked again, voice a low, husky tingle on her skin.

Moira whimpered, shifted. "John, now! Now, damn it! Please!" She tugged his hair, grabbed his arms. Pulling him onto her, into her. John thrust inside her, groaned with relief, with lust as she tightened around him. "John! Faster! Harder! Fuck me, John! Fuck me! Hurt me! Hurt me!" she cried, writhing under him, rocking wildly to encourage a more vigorous intimacy.

"Whoa! What the hell?" Her words froze him. The odd cadence of anger, sorrow, desire. He caught her wrists, pinned them to either side of her head. Stared at her. "What? Moira, no! I'll never hurt you! I won't! Did he? Is that it? First I can't out think him. Then I can't out fly him.

Now what? I need to out fuck him too? Is that it?" he asked, voice harsh. Glaring at her.

Moira stared at him. Not intimidated. Embarrassed by her outburst. But aroused by his intensity. The jealous fury in his brilliant green eyes. His full lips scowling at her. His firm grip on her wrists. Gentle, but firm. His body pinning hers down. His hard cock suspended inside her. Excruciatingly close to bringing her as he shifted, thrust a little. Enough to arouse but not to fulfill. "Maybe..." she admitted, "but it wasn't like that. Like this. It...can you? Can you at least do that, John?" she snapped, anger replacing chagrin.

"Do you want me to? Really?" he asked, still pissed. But about to burst from the halted intercourse. He thrust again, groaned. She whimpered, shifting under him.

"Yes," she answered, surprising him. She kissed him gently. "You wouldn't hurt me, John. You've never even raised a hand to me. He did...but he never hit me. But the thought wouldn't even cross your mind, would it?"

"No." His quiet answer solemn. He kissed her. Began moving again. Thrusting faster, harder. Not to hurt. Not to compete with his darker self. Only to bring them. Bring them into pleasure, release together. The pleasure rushing, escalating as he brought them swiftly. Rocking the bed. Bodies locked in mutual satisfaction.

Moira melted into the spirals of sexual pleasure, heat. His name cascading off her lips in an endless litany that only seemed to spur him on, to keep him hard and sliding along her, in her. Until he shuddered and the string of swear words escaping his lips told her he had reached his own objective. Satisfied release. Possession. The difference with the other John was marked. Relaxed her. Calmed her.

John rested on her after sliding out. He kissed her. Lazily caressed a breast. "Fuck. Moira...that was the strangest argument we've ever had. My Moira. Better now?"

She smiled. Stroked his back. Careful of the three scars marring his flesh. "Yes, John. Thank you, colonel. I needed that. All of that."

"You're welcome, baby. Anytime. The sex, I mean. Not the argument. And I do mean any time. Day or night."

She softly laughed. "Okay, sweetie."

He groaned. "Don't call me that, please." He rolled off her. Wiped his brow. The room was plunged into darkness. Golden city lights gleamed at the window.

"Sorry. Sweetie." She laughed at his exaggerated groan. Snuggled up against him. His arm went around her as she slipped on top of him. Cuddling.

"At least not during sex, then, baby," he relented. Kissed her brow. "Hey, Moira...did I?"

"Did you what, John?" she asked, settling comfortably. Fingers playing on his chest.

"Did I out fuck him?" John asked. Voice mild, but an undercurrent of anger threaded.

"Shut up, John." She stiffened on him, tensing. But he continued stroking her back, her hair.

"I want to know, baby. Did I?" he persisted. Knew he should let it go but couldn't. She shifted on him. Whispered something against his chest. "What? I didn't quite catch that, Moira. Did I? Look, you said it was different, right? Not like this. Right? I mean, you meant it wasn't full fucking intercourse, right? Look, I know it was me, well, not me but me, I mean–"

"John!" She lifted to view his face. A blush warmed her cheeks but her gaze was angry. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. I do. Tell me," he urged. Bracing himself.

Moira sighed again. "Yes."

"Huh? Yes, what? Moira?" She had settled upon him again. He nudged her. "Moira? Moira! Damn it, what the kind of answer is that? Moira!"

"John, shut up! Go to sleep, will you?"

"No, damn it! Explain! Now!" He shook her.

Moira swore, sat and slapped his hand off her arm. "Damn it, John! Fine! Yes, you out fucked him. Happy now, colonel! And no, it wasn't full fucking intercourse, all right?" She scrambled to the edge of the bed, grabbing for her clothes. "Fuck you, John! Why do you have to push! To pry! To know every little–"

"Because you fucked him! Or he forced you, I don't know! Did you come, Moira? Did you?" he demanded.

"No! It wasn't like that! And if I had at least I would have been shouting out the right John!" she snapped, irritated.

"The wrong one, you mean! He's not me, damn it! I'm me! And you had sex with–"

"Because he's you, John! Not you, but you! And it was comfort, not sex! He lost her, John! He was broken because of that, because of seeing me! Me! And I know how that–"

"Like I wouldn't be? Fuck this!" John got off the bed, yanked on his shorts as Moira finished pulling on her clothes. He strode to the door, furious. At her. At himself. "You better go."

She turned, stared. He stood at the closed door. Waiting. "Go? You, you mean..."

"I mean go." He folded his arms across his chest. Waiting.

Moira gulped. Uncertain. Standing near the foot of the bed. Her shoes awkwardly dangling from her hand. "You, you mean..."

"I said go." His voice was mild. Not really knowing himself what he meant. Just knowing he had to get some distance on this. Distance from her. From his darker side.

Moira swallowed again. Hot and sweaty her clothes stuck to her. Pleasured and relaxed from the sex but now a knot twisted in her stomach. She moved to the door. John opened it. Held up a hand. Poked his head out to look up and down the deserted hallway. She frowned at that. "John...you–"

"Go." He met her gaze. Expression solemn. Smouldering with emotion. Half in shadow, half in light he stood, clad only in his blue and white striped boxers. Moira would have found it humourous except for the severity of his expression. The situation. The unasked, unanswered question hanging over them.

"Fine." She stepped past him. So close her hair tickled against his chest, his hair. Inadvertently causing him to react, to become aroused. The scent of strawberry shampoo and their recent sex making him almost reach out to grab her arm. Almost. He kept his hands at his sides.

Moira turned back to look at him. Brown eyes worried, but angry. Wanting to demand clarification but afraid of the answer. Regretting he knew what had transpired between his alternate self and her, but almost relieved that he did know. That she wouldn't have to dissemble or deceive. Almost. She forced her questions into silence.

Moira turned away from him. Walked down the hallway. The darkness swallowing her. Lights hitting her as she passed under them, then was consumed by the darkness once more.

John watched her go. Silent. Hand resting on the doorframe now. Watching her pass from shadow to light, shadow to light.

Moira turned back once. Only once to see him standing in the doorway. Silhouetted in the light from his room. The light playing over his lean, nearly nude body. On his face, unreadable at this distance. His utter stillness. Silence.

John saw her turn. Could barely make her out in the shadows at the top of the hallway. A swirl of brown hair against gray clothing. Face unreadable as the darkness concealed her. The silence felt heavy. Oppressive.

Moira turned again. Disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

John let her go.


End file.
